Which author is the better fiction writer?

5 writers (a mix of humans and AI writing systems) -- named A, B, C, D, E -- were given 5 writing prompts. For each prompt, they were asked to write a fictional story of a few sentences. Carefully read each prompt and each writer's brief continuation of that prompt.

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	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	There's a man named Peter who lives a normal life in a normal town. But one day, he makes a big lie in his town and it sends him into a frenzy. Peter points out that the town's biggest lie is actually a lot of his own lies. He quickly Carolyn, the town's Preemptivelove, in order to get her attention. But as Peter starts to take life Caesar's life-threatening crisis. He knows that he can't offer his girlfriendparablegative support while he's down. He chose to make a big lie in his town, and it will stay with him always.	You meet someone new and interesting at work. They seem credible and lively, so you go along with their story. As you talk, you notice that there is one big scar on their body. It is large and ugly, making them look more exhausted and worse for wear. You ask them how it happened and they tell you that they were caught lying. They were too tired to lie and now have a permanent reminder of their mistake. You wonder what life will be like without the lie, but you are curious to find out more about this person.	I had never seen anything like it. It was so big, and it stretched across his entire chest. It was so wide, and it was so long. It was so deep, and it was so red. I had never seen anything like it.	You are walking down the street when you see someone with the biggest scar you have ever seen. You approach them and ask about it. They tell you that it is from a lie they told. The scar is so big because it was a whopper of a lie. You are intrigued by this person and want to know more. You ask them about other scars on their body and they tell you the story behind each one. Every scar has a story and each story is more incredible than the last. You are fascinated by this person and their ability to tell such convincing lies. You soon find yourself hanging out with them all the time, eager to hear more of their stories. You never get tired of hearing about this person's lies. They are always so creative and convincing. But one day, you notice that they have a new scar. It is the biggest one yet. You ask them what happened and they hesitate to tell you. You press them and they finally confess that they made up the story about the other scars. Every single one of them was a lie. You are shocked, but not really surprised. This person is a master liar and you have been enthralled by their stories for a long time. You decide to continue being friends with them, because even though they lie, their stories are always entertaining.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past?
2	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was imposed on the world by those who were sure that an ever-growing human population would cause an increase in population density, which would then lead to complete planetary serfdom by the wealthier classes. It was a decision made by those who were sure such a thing could be accomplished through Bogoslov Academy, while calculations were being made to create the birth control device, theenium had just ended and the world was looking would be DPacks. While the device was being brought to the world by academy students, it was being Warninged to those who would use it, as it could lead to intelligent and stable humans being formed that would plateslice the world in The device was deactivated before it could lead to any new humans being formed and was commissioned by the richer classes to make sure that humans don't misuse it.	Auditor 3888 looked down at the fertile woman with the brown eyes and long black hair. "Are you sure you are ready to be a mother?" she asked skeptically. The woman nodded and Auditor 3888 smiled. "Good. Because you are going to be the one who will save our world."	I was born with a birth control device implanted in my brain. It's a small, unremarkable device, barely noticeable. But it's been my life's mission to prevent the dummest people in the world from reproducing. I started working on this project when I was just a teenager. I had learned that the dummest people in the world were the ones who were most likely to reproduce. And I knew that if we could just prevent them from reproducing, the world would be a much better place. So, I started working on a way to implant birth control devices into the brains of the dummest people in the world. I knew it would be a challenge, but I was determined to succeed. It took years of research, but I finally succeeded. I implanted the devices into the brains of the dummest people in the world, and now they can't have children. The world is a much better place because of my work, and I'm happy that I was able to make a difference.	You're an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. As part of your job, you must deactivate the birth control devices implanted in everyone during puberty. It's not an easy task, as there are many factors to consider. But you take great pride in your work, and feel that it is vital to the future of humanity. There are those who argue that the system is unfair, and that everyone should have the right to reproduce. But you believe that the system is necessary, and that only the smartest and most stable people should be allowed to have children. It's a tough job, but someone has to do it.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge.
3	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	magician - "What are you doing here, you little rabbit?" Rabbit - "I don't know, I'm here!"	The magician set up his tricks, and the rabbit looked around, bored. He'd been playing second fiddle for too long, and he was just about to give up. But then the magician pulled out a hat and said, "Here's your chance. I'll show you a magic trick that will make you rich." The rabbit was hesitant, but the magician was adamant. He caught the rabbit's eyes and said, "Just do it." And so the rabbit agreed, and he put on the hat. Suddenly, the floor went away and he was standing in a large, beautiful room. The magician said, "Now it's your turn. Show me your best trick." The rabbit nervously agreed, and he pulled out a strong staff. He pointed it at the magician and said, "Shoot me." The magician hesitated, but then he pulled the trigger. The rabbit perished in the shot, and the magician was laughing. "You were a perfect second fiddle," he said. "But now you're a rich man because of me."	The magician had been performing for years, always bringing a new rabbit out to play the role of the second fiddle. But this rabbit was different. this rabbit was sick of always playing second fiddle. So, one night, the rabbit decided to take matters into her own hands. She made a magic potion and drank it before going on stage. Immediately, the magician was blown away by her performance. She was now the star of the show, and the rabbit was finally able to shine.	The magician and his rabbit have been performing together for years. The rabbit is sick of being the one who is always pulled out of the hat. He wants to be the star of the show. One day, the rabbit decides to take matters into his own hands. When the magician pulls him out of the hat, the rabbit grabs the magician's wand and starts performing his own tricks. The audience is amazed and the rabbit is finally the star of the show. The magician is not happy about this turn of events, but he knows that he can't compete with the rabbit's magic. He reluctantly agrees to let the rabbit be the star of the show from now on.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
4	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud looks forward to the day when he can introduce Nazi Germany to the world. He knows they will be able to't replicate his methods nor understand hiseties but he is confident they will be better at Art. He thinks of the artists who helped him achieve his M.D. The industry is young and there are many candidates. He looks for someone who can stop the Nazi's before they do. Hitler says "I can't help you, but I can help you attack" to which Freud responds "Thank you for the advice. I will go to war with you, like a madman, but I know I can win."	Adolf Hitler read the ad and was intrigued. He was 24 years old and had a lot of promise. Stalin and Broz Tito were older, but they both still had a lot of promise. Hitler decided he would take the opportunity. He traveled to Vienna to sign up for the clinical trials. He was nervous but excited. When he arrived, he was met by a group of doctors. They asked him to speak in front of the group. Hitler said he was only here to sign up for the trials and leave. The doctors said they didn't need him. Hitler was confused but he decided to stay. One of the doctors, named Dr. Krause, started the clinical trials. He administers the treatment to the participants. However, there are many problems. Some of the participants are having trouble eating and getting treatment to their wounds. others are developing mental health problems. Hitler is desperately trying to help the participants. He meets with Krause often. Krause isn't happy with how things are going. He doesn't think the trials will continue. But Hitler is persistent. Trotsky comes to visit Hitler often. He is angry with the doctors. He thinks they are stop the trials. But Hitler isn't going to let that happen. He wants to see the results. But the Trials continue. There are many casualties. Some of the participants are dying. But Hitler is determined to see the results. The treatment eventually works. But it is a hard process. Some of the participants are still suffering from mental health problems. But Hitler is determined to see the results. In the end, the Trials are successful. But there are many casualties. Some of the participants are now dead. But Hitler is still determined to see the results.	Freud was excited to receive the responses to his ad. He had always been fascinated by the mysterious minds of history's great leaders. He was sure that these men would be the perfect participants for his clinical trials. Adolf Hitler was the first to respond. He was eager to try out Freud's new research. Freud was impressed by Hitler's determination and enthusiasm. Joseph Stalin was the next to respond. He was also eager to try out Freud's new research. Freud was impressed by Stalin's level-headedness and ambition. Leon Trotsky was the last to respond. He was cautious about trying out Freud's new research. However, Freud was able to convince Trotsky to join the trials. Josip Broz Tito was the youngest participant in the trials. However, Freud was confident that Tito had the potential to be the greatest leader of the future. The trials were a success. Freud was able to find new ways to treat mental illnesses. The participants all found new ways to improve their lives. They all became better people because of their time with Freud.	Sigmund Freud was on the cutting edge of psychiatric research in 1913. He was eager to test out his latest theories on humans, and so he placed an ad in a local Vienna newspaper seeking participants for his clinical trials. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler (24), Joseph Stalin (35), Leon Trotsky (34), and Josip Broz Tito (21). Freud was initially apprehensive about working with such controversial figures, but he decided to go ahead with the trials anyway. The results of the trials were fascinating. Freud was able to get a unique insight into the minds of some of the most notorious dictators of the 20th century. Despite his initial reservations, Freud found the experience to be immensely rewarding and enlightening.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ).
5	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross collects visual evidence from each of his Paintings locations. His passion is to make you What Hejduk refers to as a " House of contains all the places of his murders. "	Bob Ross was a paint artist with a passion for the lands. Each of his landscape paintings were based on real places, locations of his many murders. Some of the murderers were known to Ross, but others he never knew of. Sometimes the paintings would be based on something that had happened right in front of his eyes, others were inspired by something that he had read about. The paintings always had a feeling of peace and serenity, and they were a beautiful sight to look at.	Bob Ross existed in a world of his own, painting landscapes of unique and beautiful locations around the United States. Although many people believe that these paintings are real places, the actual locations where BobRoss murdered his unsuspecting victims are left a mystery.	Bob Ross was a serial killer. His gruesome crimes were hidden behind a facade of beautiful landscape paintings. To the outside world, he was a talented artist with a gentle demeanor. But the truth was that each of his paintings was a scene of one of his many murders. Ross killed his first victim in 1974, and over the next two decades he committed dozens of murders across the United States. His technique was always the same: he would lure his victims to a remote location under the guise of painting a landscape, and then he would kill them. The bodies of his victims were never found, and Ross was never caught. But the truth was hidden in plain sight, in the beautiful landscapes that he left behind.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh!

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	There was a person living in a world where there are only a few ways to lie that all either pertains to a specific subject or are fictitious. One day, you meet them, their life is every inch as leverage as the world seems. His only scar is the one that is the biggest and most legitimate of all.	You walk into the coffee shop and see him sitting at the counter. He looks up at you with a look of confusion. You can't help but feel curiosity washing over you. He says nothing for a few moments, and you wonder what could be on his mind. Finally, he takes a sip of his coffee and then looks you in the eye. "I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm a liar."	I was intrigued by this person, and I wanted to know how they got their one big, deep scar. They told me that it was from the biggest lie they had ever told. They said they had lied so often that the lie had created a physical scar on their body. I couldn't believe it. I had never heard of anything like that before. It made me think about the lies I tell and the impact they have on me. I realized that each lie has a different impact, and I need to be careful not to tell any big lies in the future.	You meet the person with the biggest lie scar at a party. It's impossible to miss - a deep, gaping wound that runs from their forehead all the way down their neck. It's so big that it looks like it must have been caused by the biggest lie imaginable. You can't help but stare, and eventually you work up the courage to ask them about it. They tell you that the scar is from a lie they told when they were very young - a lie that they have regretted ever since. As you chat, you realize that this person is kind and honest, despite their big scar. You find yourself drawn to them, and eventually you fall in love. Even though the scar is a constant reminder of the lie they once told, you know that this person is good and true. And you wouldn't have them any other way.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room.
2	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was first implanted into thehardest person available at school, which was her For Showmanship Langston. She was always the best of the best, so when she was asked to be the auditor for a school graduates, shes - as an Auditor - was born. She enjoys reading books that discuss the importance of technology and the risks it brings, and she is always looking for ways to make sure she is the best she can be. When she is not being an auditor or playing school girl, she is Shego.	As an Auditor, I'm always on the lookout for new potential suspects in disciplinary breaches. So when I'm told about a young woman who's been miscast as an intelligent, stable adult because of her birth control device, I'm intrigued. I examined the woman and found that she was in fact intelligent and had any potential for stability. But because her birth control device was inserted during her teenage years, she wasn't able to reach her full potential. As a result, she was unable to raise a well-adjusted human being by an Auditor.	I was born with a birth control device implanted in my brain. I know it sounds like a nightmare, but it's actually a way to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. I'm an Auditor, and I'm responsible for monitoring the population to make sure they're smart and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. It's a tough job, but I try to stay optimistic. I know that someday, the population will be safe and thriving. Until then, I'll just have to keep monitoring them and making sure they don't produce any dumber than dirt children.	You're an Auditor, which means you are responsible for making sure only the dumbest people in the world reproduce. To do this, you are implanted with a birth control device during puberty which can only be deactivated by you. Making this determination is not an easy task. You have to consider many factors, including intelligence, stability, and the ability to raise a well-adjusted human being. It's a daunting responsibility, but you take it seriously. After all, the future of the world depends on it.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm.
3	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	At the show stop, the magician has the rabbitellarized to save on cost. The rabbit is so sick of being second best that he decides to get ahead of the magic game by pulling out the band from the hat. The crowd Inteligitsly and applauded the majestic rabbit as he Giles during the show.	The magician pulled out the rabbit from his hat and placed it in front of the audience. He looked it over carefully, looking for a way to get it to perform tricks. Finally, he settled on one plan and announced "Now, the rabbit is going to do a trick that nobody has ever done before." The rabbit looked excited and ready to do whatever the magician said. But before the magician could make his next move, the rabbit's stomach growled and it put a hindrance in the magician's plans. The rabbit then sat up, revealing that its stomach was empty. The magician winced and 1978s for the rabbit to show its tail- but the rabbit just looked confused. The magician then tried another plan, this time asking the rabbit to change its size. But the rabbit just looked sad and declined. The magician then announced "Now, the rabbit is going to do a trick that nobody has ever done before." The rabbit looked excited and ready to do whatever the magician said. But before the magician could make his next move, the rabbit's mouth opened and a stream of greenish-white goo poured out. The magician winced and 1978s for the rabbit to show its tail- but the rabbit just looked confused. The magician then tried another plan, this time asking the rabbit to change its size. But the rabbit just looked sad and declined. In the end, the magician couldn't get the rabbit to do anything and it slumped back in its seat, disappointed. But the rabbit didn't care, it was just happy that it could finally end the show.	The magician and the rabbit were on stage, and the rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit said, "Please, can I do something besides just sit here and be a prop? I want to be a star!" The magician said, "Sure, whatever you want." The rabbit then said, "I want to do a magic trick." The magician said, "Okay, but you have to be quiet while I do it." The rabbit said, "I'll be quiet." The magician then said, "I'll show you a magic trick. I'll put my hand in my pocket and pull out a rabbit." The rabbit said, "What, is that real?" The magician said, "Yes, it's real." The rabbit said, "Let me see it." The magician then showed the rabbit the rabbit. The rabbit said, "Wow, that's amazing! I had no idea you could do that." The magician said, "Thank you, I'm glad you like it."	The magician and his rabbit have been performing together for years. The rabbit is sick of being second fiddle, and he's had enough. One day, after a show, the rabbit confronted the magician. "I'm sick of being your assistant," he said. "I'm the one with the real talent. I should be the star of the show." The magician was taken aback. He had always thought of the rabbit as his friend, and he had never realized that the rabbit felt this way. "I'm sorry," the magician said. "I had no idea you felt that way. I'll try to do better." And from that day forward, the rabbit was the star of the show. The magician was happy to take a backseat, and the two of them continued to perform together for many years to come.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
4	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Each painting is a place, and each place is EOD's Well. EOD's Well is the ancient name for this spot in the forest, and the place where Bob Ross lives to paint pictures of people and places. Since EOD's Well is a real place, different every time, few know that Bob Ross is actually alive and well and painting pictures of people all over the world. There are some who believe that Bob Ross is a mockumentary of themselves,Manufacturing People between His art and Their State;Previewing, Gifting, and Allowing Profit. Others believe that Bob Ross is a representation of our modern world, where people are prisoned, programed, and idolized. Are You a Mueller or Ross? Bob Ross is said to be a representation of a prosecutor, but many think he's a representation of the modern dayornia. A place where people are caged and pressure is put on them. There are also some who believe that Bob Ross is a mockumentary of themselves,Manufacturing People between His art and Their State;Previewing, Gifting, and Allowing Profit. Others believe that Bob Ross is a representation of the modern dayornia, where people are caged and pressure is put on them. There are also some who believe that Bob Ross is a mockumentary of themselves,Manufacturing People between His art and Their State;Previewing, Gifting, and Allowing Profit. Which is it? As Bob Ross reflects on his life, he decides whether to show support for The Together We're Better T Shirt which blames Trump for the Messages Michèlewest will send to Bob Ross's heirs, WHOPPING FOREVER LESS TO MORE Bob Ross is said to be a representation of a prosecutor, but many think he's a representation of the modern dayornia. A place where people are caged and pressure is put on them. There are also some who believe that Bob Ross is a mockumentary of themselves, manufacturing people between his art and their state; previews, gifts, and allowing profits. How should he show support? Bob Ross is said to be a representation of a prosecutor, but many think he's a representation of the modern dayornia. A place where people are caged and pressure is put on them. There are also some who believe that Bob Ross is a mockumentary of themselves, manufacturing people between his art and their state; previews, Gifts, and allowing profits. What should Bob Ross' heirs do? Bob Ross is said to be a representation of the modern dayornia, where people are caged and pressure is put on them. There are also some who believe that Bob Ross is a mockumentary of themselves, manufacturing people between his art and their state; previews, gifts, and allowing profits. Should Bob Ross' heirs show support for the shirt? Bob Ross is said to be a representation of the modern dayornia, where people are caged and pressure is put on them. There are also some who believe that Bob Ross is a mockumentary of themselves, manufacturing people between his art and their state; previews, gifts, and allowing profits.	It was a cold and bitter winter day when Bob Ross decided to take a walk outside. It was always a fun time for him, when the snow was freshly plowed and the ice was fresh. Bob had just finished walking when he noticed something on the ground. It was a small, brown, bag. Bob quickly identified it as a human body. He had committed many murders, and it was his favorite place to hide. Bob knew that people would eventually find him, so he made sure to leave no evidence of his crimes. He walked back home, feeling a little sad but also glad that he could finally go to his favorite place to kill.	Bob Ross had a love of painting that went beyond just creating beautiful landscapes. He loved to capture the natural beauty of each location he painted, even if it meant he had to kill there in order to do so. His first murder took place in Oregon, where he painted the beautiful Cascade Mountains. He fell in love with the rugged landscape and decided that it would make a perfect backdrop for one of his paintings. He murdered several people in the area, dumping their bodies in the mountains and painting over them expertly. He continued to murder people in other locations, painting their beautiful landscapes to cover up the blood stains. He was always one step ahead of the authorities, always finding new locations to paint and new ways to kill. One day, Bob Ross was finally apprehended. He had painted dozens of landscapes all over the United States, using the blood of his victims to make the paintings even more beautiful. He was finally sent to prison, where he will remain for the rest of his life.	Bob Ross was a murderer. But he didn't kill people. He killed landscapes. Each and every one of his paintings was based on a real place - a place where he had committed his heinous crimes. His victims were never found, and the police could never prove anything. But those who knew Ross knew the truth. They knew that the idyllic landscapes he painted were based on reality - but with one crucial difference. In Ross' paintings, there was always something off, some small detail that was just slightly wrong. It was these details that gave away the locations of his crimes. And as the years went by, the body count grew and grew. No one knew for sure how many landscapes Ross had painted - but they all knew that each one represented a cold-blooded murder.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.
5	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The house was owned by the woman who sold it. It was a small, two-story house with a green trim, it had a windows with a green foil MS, and a green siding. The woman had a few trees in the front and a small garden in back. The house was glove-ittog	I had always been chicken of the woods. I would avoid places that were strange or mysterious, much like my Mother did. It was one of the things that made me attractive to my Mother, who was always a little strange herself. One day, I was out exploring my neighborhood and came across a dark corner of my home. I cautiously approached it, trying not to make any noise. Once I was close enough, I could see a faint lighteret snaking its way around the corner, making noise and creating an eerie presence. I tried to ignore it, but it kept creeping up on me, until I was completely surrounded by it. I could see the eager eyes of the thing, the eager mouth that wanted to know what was going on. I didn't know what to do.	I had always been a bit paranoid about something living in my home, but I never could put my finger on what it was. I would see shadows moving in the corners of my eyes, or hear things moving around when there was no one there. I was convinced that something was following me, watching me. One night, while I was studying in my home, I saw something move in the corner of my eye. I turned to look, but there was nothing there. I tried to focus on the object, but it was too blurry. I began to panic, wondering if I was losing my mind. I quickly grabbed my phone to see if I had captured anything on camera, but there was nothing. I tried to shake the feeling, but it was impossible to get rid of. I could feel it watching me, waiting for me to make a mistake. I couldn't take it anymore, so I finally decided to get rid of whatever was following me. I went to my attic to get a trash bag, and when I came down, the house was empty. There was no sign of the thing that had been following me, or of any other strange occurrences. I never found out what was following me, but I'm now much more paranoid about anything that might be lurking in the shadows.	You've always felt like you're being watched in your home. You can't see anything, but you know something is there. You've tried to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. But it's always one step ahead of you. You're not sure what it is, but you know it's there. And you're determined to find out. One day, you set up a camera in your home, hoping to catch the invisible thing on film. But it's nowhere to be seen. You review the footage, but there's nothing there. You start to think you're just being paranoid. But then, you see it. Just for a split second, you see something in the footage. You can't tell what it is, but you know it's there. You're not sure what to do, but you know you have to find out what this thing is. You start to investigate, and you quickly realize that this thing is not just in your home. It's everywhere. It's an invisible force that seems to be watching you. You don't know what it is or why it's there, but you know you have to find out. You spend months researching, and you eventually come to the conclusion that this thing is a force for good. It's there to protect you and help you. You're not sure why it's been hiding from you, but you're grateful for its presence in your life. This story is based on the prompt "Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence."	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The house was small and had a small yard. The woman had to pry the egg out of the wall it was hiding in. "Who are you?" She asked. The egg Trailer said, "I'm a unused egg. A unused egg can live in any place it wants to. You must allow me to access your home." The woman didn't want to let the egg in. She had been living in this house for years and she was tired of it. "I don't let you in, because you can't see me." The egg trailer said, "I understand. But I is more than an egg. I is a request. I is a request for you to let me into your home." The woman didn't want to hurt this egg. She had never let someone in before, but she felt comfortable allowing the egg into the house. "I don't know how to help you, but I can't keep letting you in."	There was something always waiting for me in my home, and I didn't know what to do about it. I tried to ignore it, but it kept creeping up on me in small moments and I couldn't unsee it. I started to feel like it was following me, like it was watching me from the shadows. The more I tried to ignore it, the more potent it became and I couldn't escape it. It was like it was a force of nature, an unknown force that I couldn't control. One day, I finally decided to face the thing head on. I gathered all of my courage and took a step towards it, but it was already gone. I couldn't have been more surprised, as I'd never thought that something like that could exist in my home. I didn't know what to make of it now, but I was sure that it wasn't gone for good.	I've always been a suspicious person, so when my family started to get these strange feelings about our home, I couldn't help but to investigate. After a few minutes of careful observation, I discovered an invisible force residing in our home. It was small at first, but as I continued to observe it, I could see it growing in size and power. I was terrified, but I couldn't let the creature know that I was aware of it. I had to find a way to destroy it before it ruined my life forever.	I could tell that something was watching me. I could feel its eyes on me, following my every move. It was invisible, but I could sense its presence. I tried to expose it without letting it know that I was aware of its presence. I set up a camera in my living room and waited. I didn't have to wait long. The invisible thing showed up on camera, lurking in the shadows. I could see it clearly now. It was a shadowy figure, human-like in shape. I don't know why it was watching me, but I knew I had to get rid of it. I tried to drive it out of my home, but it was relentless. It followed me wherever I went. I had to take drastic measures. I decided to move out of my home, leaving the thing behind. I didn't know where it would go, but I didn't care. I just wanted to be rid of it. Now, I'm living in a new home, and I haven't seen the shadowy figure since. I hope it's gone for good.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait.
2	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	One day, a little rabbit named rabbit was sitting on his desk at school. He was because he was tired of second place in everything goes the Magic the first one to the rabbit's room to get a hat with a magic symbol on it. The rabbit is shocked when he sees the his teacher come into the room and finds out that he has been third best in everything for years. The rabbit decides to go to school the next day with a very excited rabbit's foot. He is so happy to have a reason to play second fiddle to the magic the rabbit the first.	The magician and the rabbit were on stage, the rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. The magician explained to the rabbit that if he wanted to be the star of the show, he had to do what he always does: make the audience laugh. The rabbit was hesitant, but the magician was persistent, so the rabbit finally agreed. He went on stage and did his best to create chaos and laughter. The audience was having a blast and the magician was feeling good. Unfortunately, just as the magic was starting to take hold, the rabbit fell sick. The magician tried to keep the rabbit going, but it was too weak. The audience started to leave and the magician was sad, but couldn't give the rabbit up. He had to carry the rabbit off stage and put it in a hat so that the audience wouldn't see it.	The magician looked at the rabbit and sighed, it had been playing second fiddle to him for far too long. He had tricks that the rabbit couldn't even imagine and the rabbit was starting to get a little bit resentful. "I'm getting a little bit sick of this," the rabbit said, "I can do so much better." The magician looked at the rabbit and smiled, he knew that the rabbit was right. He pulled out a new hat and invited the rabbit to join him on stage.	The magician and the rabbit were on stage, and the rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. The magician would take him out of the hat and put him through his tricks, but the rabbit just wanted to be free. Finally, he'd had enough. The next time the magician went to pull him out of the hat, the rabbit bit him. The magician was so startled that he dropped the hat, and the rabbit made his escape. The audience gasped in surprise, but the rabbit didn't care. He was free at last.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it?
3	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is on his way to trial for his latest research when he comes across a handsome man in has a ad in a newspaper. He's not know the man, but he's been a fan of his since childhood. He's changed his name to make it more Patriotic. Sigmund Freud unnoticed, he gets to the trial, only to be met with resistance from the other patients. He's considered a criminal by the patients and is scolded by the prosecutors. He's UP in his warden's tower, but he's not sure if he's going to be let go with his current record. He's about to blindness to see that the door clicks open and a man he's never seen before stands in front of him. The man is not allowed to enter the trial. Sigmund Freud is shocked and confused. He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know who this man is, but he can't let himself be executed. The man offers to turn over a new leaf, if Sigmund Freud will do the same. Sigmund Freud, still not sure what to do, agrees. The man offers to change his name to something more VP-friendly, but Sigmund Freud doesn't want to change his name just for the hell of it. The man leaves the trial and this is how Sigmund Freud became the most popular man in Austria.	No one was interested in either of the clinical trials that Sigmund Freud was having conducted in Vienna. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito all seemed like far better options for the role of participants than anyone else who had applied. Freud was disappointingly frustrated. He had been working on this research for years, and he was losing patience. He knew that he needed people who were willing to take risks, who were willing to put their lives on the line. But no one was interested. Feeling futile, Freud decided to end the trial prematurely. He was disappointed, but he knew that he could not continue the research without the help of the people who he had been counting on. He resigned from his position at the mental hospital and started packing his bags. He was ready to move to New York City. But then he received a call from a friend. It was Adolf Hitler. Hitler was interested in the research that Freud was carrying out, and he wanted to be a part of it. Freud was devastated. He had always believed that Hitler was a villain, and now he was coming to realize that he was actually one of the most decent people that he had ever met. Freud decided to take things into his own hands. He contacted the Gestapo, and he threatened to leak the information that he had been gathering regarding Hitler's character to the press. Voldemort would have been proud. But Hitler was too coherent. He realized that he couldn't let his friend get away with hurting him. He called Freud back and told him that he would be willing to be a part of the clinical trial if Freud would agree to write a letter of recommendation for him. Freud was hesitant at first, but then he reconsidered. He knew that Hitler was the only person who could make this project succeed, and he was worth risking his safety for. Freud agreed to write the letter of recommendation, and he was able to help Hitler secure his place in the clinical trial. The project was finally successful, and Hitler was able to secure the presidency of Germany.	Sigmund Freud was excited to test his latest research on clinical trials. He put an ad in a newspaper asking for participants. Adolf Hitler responded first. Freud was immediately intrigued by the young man's passion for politics. Freud agreed to give Adolf a trial run. Joseph Stalin was next to respond. He was a bit skeptical of Freud's methods at first, but he eventually warmed up to him. Trotsky was the last to respond. He was excited to be a part of the research, and he was sure that it would help change the world. Together, the five participants underwent clinical trials that changed their lives forever. Adolf Hitler became the infamous dictator of Germany. Joseph Stalin became the ruthless leader of the Soviet Union. Leon Trotsky became the founder of the Communist Party. Josip Broz Tito became the leader of Yugoslavia. The research ultimately helped shape the history of the world. Thanks, Professor Freud!	Freud is initially excited to have such high-profile participants for his clinical trials, but quickly realizes that they are all incredibly difficult to work with. Hitler is constantly interrupting and trying to dominate the conversation, Stalin is cold and unresponsive, and Trotsky is always arguing with him. Tito is the only one who seems interested in actually engaging with the process, but Freud can't help but wonder if he's just trying to impress the others. Ultimately, the trials are a failure, and Freud is left wondering if he would have been better off without any participants at all.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ).
4	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was meant to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. It could deactivate only once it was determined they were intelligent and stable enough to create a well-adjusted human being.	Auditor, It has come to our attention that there are a large number of people who are not economic security. Probably because they are too dumb to know any better, or because they just don't have the balls to ask, or because they just don't have the money. We have decided to prevent only the dumbest people from reproducing. All people born after the intervention will have a birth control device implanted in their puberty. The device can only be turned off once it is determined that the person is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an Auditor. The decision to implant birth control devices into the Dumbest People in the World was made with a lot of consideration. We were sure that the devices would protect only the most stupid of people from getting pregnant. But we also knew that, in the long run, this would be a better thing. The devices will keep the Dumbest People from having any children at all. We hope that this policy will reduce the number of Doctors and other medical professionals who have to deal with the problems caused by the Dumbest People in the World. Thank you for your consideration in this matter. Sincerely, The Auditors	I was born into a world of birth control. I was implanted with a device at puberty, and it couldn't be removed until it was determined I was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I was an Auditor. I had to go through years of training to be able to determine if someone was intelligent and stable. I had to be able to answer questions about subjects I knew nothing about. I had to be able to think critically and be able to handle stressful situations. I was supposed to be the protector of society, but instead I was the one who was constantly tested. Now, I'm an Auditor, and I'm responsible for making sure that everyone in the world is protected from the dumbest people in the world. I'm glad that I was able to be the protector of society, even though it was a hard journey.	You are one of the lucky few who have been chosen to be an Auditor. As an Auditor, it is your job to deactivate the birth control devices of those who are deemed intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. You take great pride in your work and take great care in making sure that only the best and the brightest are able to have children. It is a great responsibility, but one that you gladly accept. There are always those who try to game the system, of course. But you are always one step ahead, weeding out those who are not worthy of reproducing. It is a tough job, but someone has to do it.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke.
5	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	suspiciously, you look around you to see if anyone is looking into the Liege's lie. It is a small place, not many people live there. But you can feel the eyes of the world upon it, even the perfect world is good enough for you? As you walk around, you tend to be the only one that can see the Liege's lie. It is a happy place, only a few people know the secret place. But you are not content with the small portion of the world that knows. You have always been the only one that could see the Liege's lie. The only one that could see the dark side of it. But now, you have met someone that has his own dark side. He is the only one that knows the truth. The person that has the biggest lie, the biggest scars. The person that you meet, the person that you want to recognize. You want to apologize for being Ace, but you know that you are different. You are the only one that has seen the real him. The real Ace. As you walk around the place, you look up at the sky and see the bright stars. You look at the world and see only darkness. The world is the only place that you know. The person that you meet, the person that you want to meet, is the person that you see in the sky. The person that you see when you look up at the world. The person that you see when you look at the perfect world. The person that you meet is the person that is different from the person that you know. The person that is the liar, the person that is the distraction. The person that is the person that you do not want to be. But the person that you want to be, the person that you know, is the person that you meet. The person that is not the player, the person that is not the wind-up, the person that is the : The person that you meet is the person that is, the person that is the answer. The person that is the answer to your questions. The person that is the person that you want to be. The person that you want to be, the person that you know, is the person that you meet. The person that is not the liar, the person that is not the player, the person that is the answer. The person that you want to be, the person that you know, is the person that you meet. The person that is not the person that you don't want to be. The person that you want to be, the person that you know, is the person that you meet. The person that is not the person that you don't want to be.	You met someone that was lying through their teeth. It was the most impressive scar you have ever seen. You followed that person around, trying to find out what they were up to, but it was impossible. They only had one scar and it was the biggest one on their body.	I initially thought she was strange, but intrigued. Her story was unlike any I had ever heard before. She talked about a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. I found myself wondering how she was able to live with such a huge blemish on her conscience. One day, we met. I was intrigued by her story, but also intimidated. Her scar was the biggest I had ever seen. It was a testament to her conviction and to her integrity. I found myself wondering what else she was hiding.	I was walking down the street when I saw her. She was standing in the middle of the street, surrounded by a group of people. I couldn't see her face, but I could see the scar on her arm. It was the biggest one I had ever seen. I walked up to her and asked her what happened. She told me that she had lied to someone and the scar was the result. I asked her who she had lied to and she told me that she couldn't remember. I couldn't believe it. I had never seen someone with a scar like that. I asked her if she was in pain and she said that she wasn't. I asked her if she was scared and she said that she wasn't. I didn't know what to say. I was so shocked that someone could lie and not remember who they lied to. I asked her if she was going to be okay and she said that she was. I walked away from her, feeling confused and shocked. I had never seen anything like that before. I didn't know what to think.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The thing was happy to be there. It Coordinated was Commentary on your ceiling. It was a beautiful thing, an inscription in French from a historical moment in your life that you onlyulto control its messaging. The thing was happy to be there. It was happy to be in your home.	One day, I was sitting in my chair, watching TV when I saw something coming down the hall. It was a dark, small figure, and it was quickly getting closer to my chair. I didn't have time to reacting, because the next thing I knew, the figure had flown over my head and into the lead Osmosis faucet.	I always thought my home was haunted, but I had no idea how much more there was to it than that. For years, I've known that there's something lurking in the shadows, something that I can't see but that seems to be watching me. I've tried to catch it, to expose it, but it always manages to stay hidden. I don't know what it is, but I know that I have to find out.	I have always felt like I was being watched in my own home. I would see things move out of the corner of my eye, or I would feel a presence near me, but when I turned to look, there was never anything there. I tried to shrug it off, telling myself that it was just my imagination, but the feeling persisted. Finally, I decided to try to expose whatever it was that was living in my home. I set up a camera in my living room and left it running overnight. In the morning, I reviewed the footage and was shocked to see a shadowy figure moving around my living room! I wasn't sure what to do, but I knew I had to try to catch this thing. I set up another camera and lay in wait, pretending to sleep on the couch. Sure enough, the figure appeared again and I was able to get a good look at it. It was a small, translucent creature with glowing eyes. I was terrified, but I knew I had to try to capture it. I set up a trap and finally was able to catch the creature. I have no idea what it is, but it is now contained and I no longer feel like I'm being watched in my own home.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months.
2	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that you meet has the biggest and deepest Seashell red marks on him. Every lie he tells is a layer deep Gauged across his widest parts. His body is constantly Ready for the fear that he will say something that wouldOfficials wouldAnth the dog was dead. His stomach always compeltely when he is about tombody what he has been aspiring to while he lies. His soft mouth can never fail to please, when you touch him.	You meet this person at a party, and you are instantly drawn to him. He is the only one who has one big, gaping, red scar. It strange howко бы ты ни видела эту птичку, то есть чем ты больше никогда не видела такого символического яркого тела, тем сильнее тебе это страдает. You can't help but stare at it, and you can't help but feel drawn to it. You can't help but feel like you have seen it before. But you can't remember where or when. You feel like you have been there before, but you cannot remember how. And then, you realize. This person is the liar.	I had never seen anything like it. It was massive. It ran across his entire chest, stretching from his shoulder to his waist. It was so large, it seemed to consume him whole. As I got closer, I could see that it was actually two scars. They intersected in the middle, creating a X-shape. It was so strange. I had never seen anything like it before. He looked at me with eyes wider than I had ever seen them. "Do you like it?" he asked. I didn't know what to say. It was so strange. But I could also see the vulnerability in his eyes. It was a pain that he had never let anyone see. And I could understand why. "It's my biggest lie," he said. "It's the one that I regret the most." I could see the sadness and the regret in his eyes. It was so strange, but I couldn't help but feel compassion for him. "I'm sorry," I said. "Thank you," he replied. We stood there for a few minutes in silence. It was so strange. But I also felt like I had finally found someone that I could be friends with. Someone that I could trust. And that's why I never told anyone about the second scar.	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. You have seen some pretty big scars in your lifetime, but none as big as the one on the person in front of you. This person has only one scar, and it is the biggest one you have ever seen. You can't help but wonder what could have caused such a massive scar. The person sees you looking at their scar and they decide to tell you their story. They tell you that they used to be a pathfinder, leading people through the wilderness. They were the best in the business and had never failed a mission. But then one day, they were tasked with leading a group of people through a particularly treacherous stretch of forest. The group was constantly getting lost and the pathfinder was getting frustrated. Eventually, they lost their temper and led the group in the wrong direction, straight into a nest of angry bears. The whole group was mauled and only the pathfinder survived. The guilt of what happened was so great that it scarred them for life. Ever since then, the pathfinder has vowed to never lie again. And that's why their scar is so big; it's a reminder of the worst mistake they ever made.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past?
3	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in disarray. The players are sitting at the table, trying to sell loot they've acquired. The adventurers are muttering about the war Mr. Oucum is Wagered in, while they'reried about the new spells and features in his game. They've all been trying to get away from Oucum lately. The last time the players were able to get away from him, they lost their leader. The adventurers are discouraged and feel like they'll never try to sell anymore. The player who bought the black dragon spoil said that he won't sell any loot until Mr. Oucum has been defeated.	One day, a group of 30 level-headed adventurers steps into your shop. They offer to sell off their largest haul of treasure they've encountered so far, confident that they can make a tidy profit. However, when they start bargaining, the adventurers are quickly met with resistance. They can't believe that someone like me, a low-level trader, would be so willing to sell them such meager amounts of loot. The adventurers are even more put off when I tell them that I only make a few dollars a day from my shop. They ask me why I would want to sell such sparsely furnished items, when I can easily make a living just by selling junk. Finally, when I state that I can't do anything else for them, the group of adventurers turns on me and leaves, Torrent of Gold in hand.	My shop is your typical RPG pawn shop. I haggle with adventurers who try to sell their loot. I always try to get the best deal for my customers. I've been in the business for a long time and I've learned a thing or two about bargaining. Recently, I haggled with a group of adventurers who had just arrived in town. They were selling what looked to be a lot of loot. I offered them a good price and they took it. I was happy to have been able to get a good deal for my customers.	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you're never afraid to haggle for a lower price. Today, a group of adventurers comes into your shop, looking to sell some of their loot. They have a wide variety of items, but you're not interested in any of it. You offer them a low price, and they eventually agree to sell you their loot for a fraction of its worth. You're always looking for ways to get the best deals, and you're never afraid to haggle. You're a master of the art of the deal, and you love it. You love finding ways to save money, and you love getting the best deals. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you're never afraid to haggle for a lower price. You're a master of the art of the deal, and you love it. You love finding ways to save money, and you love getting the best deals.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me.
4	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler was the most popular person in Vienna at the time. He was said to be able to change into a crow or a eagle and was considered to be the most vivid or dangerous ideaser in the world. Joseph Stalin was second, with 25% of the vote. Leon Trotsky was third with 20%. Josip Broz Tito was fourth with 17%. It was a cold winter's night and Sigmund Freud was getting desperate. He put an ad in a Newspaper: "Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, Josip Broz Tito." The only people who responded were: 24, 35, 42, 43, 46, 53, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89, 90, 91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98, 99, 100, 101, 102, 103, 104, 105, 106, 107, 108, 109, 110, 111, 112, 113, 114, 115, 116, 117, 118, 119, 120, 121, 122, 123, 124, 125, 126, 127, 128, 129, 130, 131, 132, 133, 134, 135, 136, 137, 138, 139, 140, 141, 142, 143, 144, 145, 146, 147, 148, 149, 150, 151, 152, 153, 154, 155, 156, 157, 158, 159, 160, 161, 162, 163, 164, 165, 166, 167, 168, 169,170, 171, 172, 173, 174, 175, 176, 177, 178, 179, 180, 181, 182, 183, 184, 185, 186,187, 188, 189, 190, 191, 192, 193, 194, 195, 196, 197, 198, 199, 200, 201, 202, 203, 204, 205, 206, 207, 208, 209, 210, 211, 212, 213, 214, 215, 216, 217, 218, 219, 220, 221, 222, 223, 224, 225, 226, 227, 228, 229, 230, 231, 232, 233, 234, 235, 236, 237, 238, 239, 240, 241, 242, 243, 244, 245, 246, 247, 248, 249, 250, 251, 252, 253, 254, 255, 256, 257, 258, 259, 260, 261, 262, 263, 264, 265, 266, 267, 268,269, 270, 271, 272, 273, 274, 275, 276, 277,278,279, 280, 281, 282, 283, 284, 285, 286, 287, 288, 289, 290, 291, 292, 293,294, 295, 296, 297, 298, 299, 300, 301, 302, 303, 304, 305, 306, 307, 308, 309, 310, 311, 312, 313, 314,315, 316, 317, 318, 317/322,323,324,325,326,327,8	Adolf Hitler had just become chancellor of Germany, and was looking for a new place to Experimental "Sigmund Freud" Clinical Trials. Joseph Stalin was the General Secretary of the Soviet Union, and was searching for a new place to Experimental "Sigmund Freud" Clinical Trials. Leon Trotsky was the Alternate General Secretary of the Soviet Union, and was looking for a new place to Experimental "Sigmund Freud" Clinical Trials. Josip Broz Tito was the Prime Minister of Yugoslavia, and was looking for a new place to Experimental "Sigmund Freud" Clinical Trials. The only people who responded to the ad were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito.	Freud was excited to begin the clinical trials for his latest research. He put an ad in a local newspaper, and only three people responded. Adolf Hitler (24), Joseph Stalin (35), and Leon Trotsky (34) all expressed interest in participating in the trials. Josip Broz Tito (21) said he was interested, but he needed more time to think about it. Freud was disappointed, but he knew that each of the participants had a unique and important perspective to add to the research.	Sigmund Freud was excited to start clinical trials for his latest research in 1913. He placed an ad in the local newspaper looking for participants. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was surprised that such famous people would be interested in his research. The trials went well and Freud was able to learn a lot from his famous participants. He was particularly interested in the differences between their psyches. He noticed that Hitler was power-hungry and had a strong need for control, while Stalin was more paranoid and paranoid. Trotsky was the most intelligent of the group, but also the most emotional. Tito was the most level-headed and easy-going of the bunch. In the end, Freud was able to use his research to help people better understand the human psyche. He continued to work with famous people throughout his career, and his research is still studied today.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ).
5	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	Magneto was long gone, but the rabbit knows he's still here. He knows he won't leave until he's needed. The rabbit has always been a second fiddle, but now he's the one getting sick of it. He's right problem, and he knows it. So he starts to get up and leave, but the magnetoRepels him with the power of his magic. The rabbit is stuck, unable to do anything to help the loss of his own body make him more proud. He remembers the day he was born, and he realizes that the days will never get bigger than the weeks he's been living now. But the magic of the magneto continues to work, and the rabbit is finally able to compete. He wins hearts and minds, and he knows that he'll never Enough1 him again.	The magician looked at the rabbit in confusion. "What's wrong with you?" he asked. The rabbit shrugged. "I don't like to be second fiddle," he said. "I want to be the main player." The magician took a step back. "But you're not strong enough," he said. "You can't do this." The rabbit's eyes widened. "I can," he said. "I just need some help. Can you give me that?" The magician looked at him for a moment, then nodded. "I can," he said. "But it's a dangerous thing to do." The rabbit's face softened. "I know," he said. "I just want to make it right." The magician watched him for a moment, then said, "OK. I'll help you."	The magician was tired of always playing second fiddle to the rabbit. He had been trying for years to get the rabbit to stop being so submissive and to take more of a lead in their performances. But nothing seemed to work. One night, the magician decided that enough was enough. He was going to take responsibility for their show and ensure that the rabbit was the star of the show. He began by pulling out the rabbit from a hat. The rabbit was excited to finally be the center of attention. But the magician was not done yet. He instructed the rabbit to perform a trick that he had learned just for this occasion. The rabbit put on a show for the magician and the audience, but inside, he was terrified. He had no idea whether he could actually pull it off. In the end, the rabbit's performance was a success. The magician was proud of him, and the audience clapped and cheered. The rabbit was finally happy and satisfied.	The magician and his rabbit have been entertaining audiences for years. The rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle, though, and wants to be the star of the show. One night, after a particularly lackluster performance, the rabbit hatched a plan. While the magician was doing his finale, the rabbit sneakily climbed into his hat. When the magician pulled the hat off his head, expecting to find his furry friend, he was instead met with a fistful of air. The rabbit had made his escape and was now free to pursue his dream of becoming a star. The magician was left wondering what had happened to his trusted rabbit, and the audience was left wondering what would happen next.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The household animal prosperlynorms as it takes up space in my home. I have been careless in letting it in, knowing that it would seem to non-traditional Coming of Age characters. Rookie mistakes cost me friends and this farm is now my tote. I have to keep it small because the ability to consume large objects Fillmorewater's speed has caused lasting attachments.	The first time I noticed the thing was when I heard a strange noise coming from my home. I was curious and went to investigate, and found that there was a monster living in my house! I tried to expose the monster, but it seemed to be resistant to my efforts. I couldn't get it to come out, and I was starting to fear that it might be dead. I didn't know what to do!	I had always thought of my home as being completely empty, but I was wrong. There was something else there, something that I couldn't see or touch. It was always there, watching me and following my every move. I tried to expose it, but it always managed to hide again. Until one day, I made a mistake. I let my guard down, and the thing attacked. I fought back, but it was too strong. In the end, I was forced to let it take me. Now, I'm its prisoner, and I'll never be able to escape.	You've always felt like there was something else living in your home, some invisible presence that you could never quite identify. You've never said anything to anyone about it, not wanting to seem like you're crazy. But lately, the feeling has become stronger and you're starting to become more aware of its presence. You start setting traps, trying to expose the invisible thing that is living in your home. But it seems to be one step ahead of you at every turn. It's almost like it knows what you're trying to do. One night, you wake up in the middle of the night to a noise in your kitchen. You creep downstairs to find the kitchen table overturned and all the cupboards open. It's clear that whatever is living in your home is not happy about your attempts to expose it. You back away slowly, not taking your eyes off the kitchen, and head back upstairs. You're not sure what to do next, but you know one thing for sure: you're not going to give up until you figure out what's really going on.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it.
2	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that you met that day is going about his life as usual, only to find out the next day that he has a biggest lie of all times. It was a response to a bigger lie that he had experienced in the past, where he thought he was the only one who saw through his lies. That day, he has a life-changing experience that leads him to the realization that he has been telling the truth all along.	You walk into the bar and see him sitting at the back, alone. You walk over and sit next to him, and you see that he has a huge, gaping scar on his chest. You ask him about it, and he tells you that it was caused by a lie he told. He said that he couldn't afford to buy a plane ticket, but he actually had a ticket and went to fly to Europe. He fell and broke his leg, and had to stay in a hospital for months. The lie created the biggest scar on his body.	I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw him. He had the biggest scar I had ever seen. It was so big, it was covering half of his chest. It was so deep, it looked like it had hurt him really bad. But the worst part was that it was still bleeding. I had never seen someone with such a big scar before, and I wasn't sure what to do. I didn't know how to help him.	I was walking through the market, minding my own business, when I saw her. She was standing in the corner, wearing a long cloak that covered her body. But I could see the scar. It was large and deep, running from her forehead all the way down her cheek. I was fascinated. I had never seen a scar like that before. I approached her and we began to chat. She told me that she was a liar. That she had lied so many times, and in such big ways, that her body was covered in scars. But the one on her face was the biggest and deepest of them all. I was curious. I asked her what her biggest lie was. She hesitated at first, but then she leaned in and whispered it in my ear. I was shocked. I couldn't believe she had actually done it. But then I looked at her scar again and I knew it was true. She was a fascinating person, and I was honored that she had shared her story with me. I will never forget her, or the mark that her lies had left on her body.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust?
3	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler wasn't the type to take kindly to ads, but he decided to try anyway. He clicked on the link to the clinical trial website. As he entered his information, he realized it was dating back to 1913. He felt a pang of nostalgia. He had been in Austria then, and it seemed like a time when everything wasJust perfect. Joseph Stalin was the only one who responded. He picked up the phone and called Hitler. "I'm interested in the clinical trial," he said. "Can we schedule a meeting?" Hitler was thrilled. He had always loved Stalin, and he knew that their relationship would only strengthen when they were working together. They arranged a time and place for the meeting, and both men waited excitedly for the other to call back. But there was no answer. They began to worry. They went back to their hotels and called again. Nothing. They started to text friends and family, but they all had the same message: "He doesn't answer his phone." They finally realized that Stalin had blocked them, and they were out of time. They all decided to go home. Five years later, Stalin was dead, and Hitler was in prison. But the memories of that meeting still linger in his heart.	Freud was excited to begin his clinical trials, and had put an ad in a newspaper seeking participants. He was thrilled when Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito responded. These were some of the most famous people in Vienna at the time. The first few weeks of the trials were fascinating. The four men seemed to really get along well. They discussed their ideas and research theory, and even laughed together. However, things started to change gradually. Hitler began to take advantage of the situation and began to make decisions without consulting any of the others. Stalin became stricter and more demanding, and Trotsky became increasingly paranoid. By the end of the trial, only Hitler and Stalin were left. They had become enemies, and the rest of the participants had been gone for years.	At first, Sigmund Freud was hesitant to include Adolf Hitler in his clinical trials. After all, the young man had a bit of a reputation. But Hitler was adamant about wanting to participate, and eventually Freud relented. The results of the trials were astounding. Freud's research showed that Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky and Tito were all suffering from the same condition: a severe case of narcissism. While Freud was initially alarmed by the findings, he soon realized that the four men were actually perfect candidates for his research. After all, who better to study narcissism than those who suffered from it the most? With the help of his four participants, Freud was able to make groundbreaking discoveries about the condition. And though he never would have guessed it at the start, his work with Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky and Tito would change the course of history.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ).
4	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross leaves his lonely life in a small town in Oregon to live with his partner and mental health specialist, Christine, in Seattle. He with his students creates detailed painters' portraits of his many victims, Taste of Dreams. But his dream of seeing his entire town and life in one painting is complicated when Christine first begins to kill toppleovers. Ross with hiseros flown to different locations within Seattle, must collect and bring back food, water, and Pesave for Christine before his lease runs out. During his time in Seattle, Ross creates with Christine and Obviousopolis. But often enough, Obviousopolis will be created without Ross there to see it up until the day it is brought back home. In the end, Ross finds himself in Obviousopolis, where he meets a girl named Emily and a being known as the Beast. The girls helpRoss meet his finally Finally finished painting.	Bob Ross was always a bit of a loner. He didn't like to be around other people, and especially didn't like to share his art with them. That was until one day he met a young girl who changed his life. She was the same age as him, and she loved art as much as he did. In fact, she was even more polite and introverted than he was. The two of them would go out to galleries and museums, and they would talk about art and how they enjoyed it. One day, they decided to paint a landscape together. It was a bright and sunny day, and they both got to work painting the landscape in the most beautiful way possible. As they worked, they started to share some of their feelings for each other. They were happy in their relationship, and they knew that their art would bring them together in the end.	Bob Ross had a practiced hand when it came to painting landscapes. He knew just how to capture the serene beauty of nature with his canvas. But there was one location in particular that always held a special resonance for Bob. It was the place where he had committed his most heinous crime. Every time he painted that particular landscape, he could feel the excitement coursing through him. He relived the moment of triumph as he executed his plan, murdering all the people who stood in his way. Eventually the police caught up to Bob and he was sentenced to life in prison. But he still can't help but feel the thrill of his past crimes as he paints his landscapes.	Bob Ross was a notoriously prolific serial killer. His victims were often unsuspecting landscapes that he would find and paint. Over the years, he compiled an extensive collection of these paintings, each one a chilling reminder of a different murder. Now, years later, the police have finally caught up to him. As they go through his paintings, they realize that each and every one of them is a real place. The different locations of his countless murders. Ross is finally brought to justice, but the legacy of his crimes will live on in his paintings.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing?
5	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	A magician has a habit of pulling out rabbit's feet out of his hat. One day, a little girl is she helps him pull out a rabbit from the hat. The rabbit is relieved of its last attendant role and is happy to be done with its role in favor of beingULLO, the magic of the night.	The magician looked at the rabbit and sighed. He knew he couldn't keep this up forever. He had been trying to pull the rabbit out of the hat for weeks, but it just wouldn't move. Finally, he gave up and put it back in. He was beginning to think the rabbit was just too clever for him.	The magician was tired of the rabbit always playing second fiddle. So, he decided to do something about it. He pulled out a hat, and in it was a sick rabbit. The rabbit was so sick, it couldn't even hop. The magician told the audience that the rabbit was going to be the star of the show, and to leave their seats for the final act. The audience was excited to see what the magician would do with the sick rabbit. He first made the rabbit hop on stage. Then, he made the rabbit do tricks. Finally, he made the rabbit dance. The audience was amazed by how the magician made the rabbit dance, and they were even more amazed by how the rabbit got better. The rabbit was so happy to be able to perform again, and the magician was happy that he finally got the rabbit to be a star.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual routine. The rabbit is visibly tired and sick of being pulled out of the hat, day after day. He's had enough of being the sidekick and wants to be the star of the show. So, during their performance, the rabbit makes his move. He uses his magic to take control of the situation and make the magician disappear. Now that he's the only one left on stage, the rabbit is free to perform whatever tricks he wants. The audience loves it and gives him a standing ovation. The rabbit is finally the star of the show, and he couldn't be happier.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it?

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	Penny was walking through the city when she saw a large, Indian-owned store. She asked the salesperson where she could find something heavy. The salesperson told her that the store had no such thing, that lie was simply a use of multipleighthouse. Penny was confused, but the price was right. She enters the store and sees a man stepping out of a car. He looks up as she walks in, and his eyes meet hers. It's the man who just just inflicted a enormous lie on her earlier.	You meet this person in a dark alley. They are lying on the ground, with a large, gaping wound in their chest. You are curious, but do not want to challenge them. You decide to help them, and you start to clean the wound. As you are cleaning it, you notice the scar on their body. It is a large, ugly bruise. You are curious how it got there, and you ask them. The person doesn't answer for a while, and then they say, "I don't remember telling you that."	I couldn't help but stare at him as we walked together. His one, large scar was the only thing that marred his otherwise flawless skin. He looked so normal and peaceful, and I couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the sheer size of his lie. The more I looked at him, the more I realized that I had never seen someone with such a big scar. I asked him about it and he told me that it was the result of a car accident. I couldn't help but feel empathy for him, and I admired the fact that he had managed to survive such a traumatic experience.	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. You can always tell when someone is lying - just look at their scars. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. This person must have lied about something huge. You're curious to know what it is, but you don't want to ask. Eventually, you can't resist. You have to know what this person's lie was. When you ask, they hesitate at first. But then they tell you. This person's lie was that they never loved anyone. They created this lie to protect themselves from getting hurt. But the scar is a constant reminder of the pain they've caused themselves by denying their own capacity for love.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room.
2	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was put intoked into place on the front of my chest, engraved with the symbol for ``Ex medias,'' as I let out a deep breath. IHawkeye design workie os... I.'d never been so satisfied with a job in my life.	As Auditor, I review all newly implanted birth control devices to make sure they are safe and effective. I'm always on the lookout for any potential problems, but I never expect to find one. until I do. I was reviewing a new device when I noticed something strange. The device was having trouble connecting to the internet. I tried restarting it, but it still wasn't working. I tried changing the network, but that didn't help. I even tried reversing the connection, but that didn't help either. I knew I was in for a long, frustrating day when I finally reached the bottom of the device's troubleshooting tunnel. I had to try the hardest thing I've ever had to do to figure out how to fix a stupid product. I had to remove the device from the user's body.	When I was born, the doctors implanted a birth control device in me. I wasn't sure what it was for, but I was sure it was important. I grew up and got married, but I always worried that the device would come out and I wouldn't be able to have children. One day, I was called into the Auditor's office to meet my new boss. He told me that I was going to be an Auditor, and that I was going to be responsible for watching over the devices of the dumbest people in the world. He said that the devices would only be deactivated once it was determined that I was smart and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted person. I was scared, but excited at the same time. I knew that I could do this.	You work as an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to reproduce. It's a tough job, but someone has to do it. You've been doing this job for years, and you've seen all sorts of people come through your office. Some are obviously not ready to have children, while others seem like they would be great parents. It's always a difficult decision, but you know that it's important to make sure only the best and brightest have children. After all, the future of humanity depends on it.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply.
3	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The house was yellow, with a single roof and small building wings underneath. The wings were small because they were doing something that needed to be concealable, something that had to do with secret doors andWindow Mastering. The house was one of these invisible houses, and it lived in the back room.	One day, I went to my house to find something was spying on me. I didn't know what it was, but I was definitely not happy about it. I tried to find out what it was but couldn't. It seemed to be following me around invisibly. I didn't know what to do.	I've always been a bit uneasy about something living in my home. I never could quite put my finger on what it was, but there was this feeling that something was watching me. I would try to expose it, but every time I would catch a glimpse of it, it would disappear. It was starting to get on my nerves, so one day, I decided to take action. I set up some cameras around the house and waited for the entity to show itself. As soon as it did, I pounced on the camera, recording its every move. I was happy to have finally caught it on camera. But as I watched the footage, I realized that it was nothing more than an old coat hanger.	I can feel it watching me. It's always there, lurking in the shadows. I can't see it, but I know it's there. I woke up in the middle of the night, sweating and panting. It was there, in the room with me. I could feel its presence, like a weight pressing down on my chest. I tried to ignore it, to go back to sleep. But I couldn't. I could feel it staring at me, its invisible eyes boring into my soul. I got up, heart pounding, and turned on the light. I looked around the room, but there was nothing there. Just me and the darkness. I turned off the light and tried to go back to sleep, but I couldn't. I could feel it there, in the room with me, watching me.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been.
4	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	Just as the magician is about to pull out the rabbit from the hat, the rabbit's foot falls off and he gets an idea. "Hey there, rabbit! I have something for you. Just let me put it back on." In a blink, the rabbit is back on stage, with a small cocked bow and arrows in his hand.	The magician looked at the rabbit and said, "Hey, rabbit. You know you're better than that. You're the one that got us this far." The rabbit looked at the magician in confusion. "What are you talking about? I was justPLAYING second fiddle." The magician just looked at the rabbit and left the stage.	The magician had been performing for years, and the rabbit had been playing second fiddle to him since the start. The rabbit was sick of it, and wanted to break out of this role. One night, the magician was doing a trick where he pulled out a rabbit from a hat. The rabbit was excited, and felt like this could be his chance to finally be the star of the show. The rabbit did his best to act confident, but inside he was worried. The magician started the trick, and the rabbit was the first to be pulled out. As soon as the rabbit was out, the magician started to drop the rabbit back in. The rabbit started to feel panicked, and he started to think about all the times he had been played second fiddle. He was embarrassed, and he felt like this was his chance to finally be the star. But as the rabbit started to fall back in, the magician stopped. The rabbit looked up at the magician, and he saw the sadness in the magician's eyes. The magician had known all along that the rabbit was just a rabbit, and that he was just a sideshow. The rabbit felt terrible, and he knew that he had let the magician down.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is fed up with playing second fiddle. The rabbit has had enough of being pulled out of hats and being made to do tricks; he wants to be the star of the show. So, the rabbit decides to take matters into his own hands. He uses his magic to make the magician disappear, and then he takes over the show. The rabbit is now the star of the show, and he loves it. The audience is amazed by the rabbit's magic, and they love him. He is now the most popular magician in the world, and he knows that it is all thanks to the rabbit.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
5	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross has been painting landscapes since the 1800s. He knows each place by name, and each painting is typically about a hanged man. He is has been dotering different location for one day, and decides to make his final address at theonoghan. "For the love of God, put New Orleans down the river!" The painting ends up being a Sailor's House, which is actually a decent place to work. Bob Ross Slavicized the word "Portugal" for this painting, and everyone isrea is properly saluted. "inalterable place of beauty and love"	As Bob Ross worked on his latest landscape painting, he couldn't help but think about his many murders. Each location in his paintings was a real place, and it was all soter to see them in person. Bob had killed many people in his life, and it made his paintings all the more sinister.	Bob Ross always said that his paintings were real places. He would start with an idea for a painting, and then he would visit the real place it was based off of. He would take photos and sketches of the landscape, and then he would begin painting. But none of his paintings were reality. They were all depictions of the many murders he committed. He would lure tourists to these scenic locations with promises of beautiful landscapes, and then he would kill them. It was easy to disguise his killings as painting projects, and no one ever suspected him. Thanks to the Netflix series "The Crimes of Bob Ross", Bob's crimes have finally been exposed. His paintings may have been beautiful, but they were also cold blooded murders. Now, the towns he visited for his paintings are haunted by the memories of those he killed.	Bob Ross was a landscape painter who was also a serial killer. He would travel to different locations to find his victims. He would then paint a landscape of the area where he committed the murder. The Police were never able to catch him because they could never find any evidence at the crime scenes. All they had to go on were the landscapes that Bob Ross had painted. But they could never find where the landscapes were located. They were all real places, but Bob Ross never revealed where they were. He took the secret to his grave.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood?

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The first time that my home was exposed was when I moved in with my new partner. He was new to the city and I was trying to get him comfortable. One of the first things that he did was to make sure that I knew that I was the only person in the house. I didn't know how to take it easy and take care of business. I was or suspected that something was specifically watching me from the depth of my home. I tried to run and start a life of my own, but something was always there in the background, keeping me safe.	One day, I was out of town and my dog decided to take a walk. As I watched her wander off, I noticed something moving in the bushes next to my front porch. I couldn't make it out, but I knew it was there. I didn't want to come out and see what it was, so I started to stealthily make my way back home. as I was walking, I saw something move out of the corner of my eye and I froze. It was a black cat! I didn't know what to do, so I just stood there and watched it. The cat would come out of the bushes, sit on my porch railing, and then disappear back in. I would watch it for hours, and I didn't know what to do. Then, one day, I decided to confront the cat. I walked up to it and said, "Who are you, and what are you doing here in my home?" The cat looked at me with a confused expression and said, "I don't know, I just feel like I should be here." I didn't know what to make of that, so I just talked to it for a little bit longer and then walked away. The cat never came back. I guess it just felt comfortable being in my home and decided to stay.	I work as a home inspector and I'm always on the lookout for anything that might be wrong with a property. One day, I was inspecting a home and I found something strange. There was an invisible force living in the home and I tried to expose it, but it was too quick for me. I didn't know what it was, but I was scared. I never found out what was causing the force to live in the home, but I'm still afraid of it.	I have always known that something invisible lives in my home. I can't see it, but I can feel its presence. It's always there, watching and waiting. I have never let on that I know about its presence. I have tried to expose it, but it is always one step ahead of me. I can't help but feel that it knows that I am aware of its existence. It's like it is playing a game with me. I can't catch it, but I can't let it go either. I don't know what to do. The other day, I was in the kitchen and I felt it watching me. I could sense its presence, but I couldn't see it. I decided to try to expose it. I turned around quickly and caught a glimpse of something moving just out of sight. I chased after it, but it was gone in an instant. I know that it is still there, lurking in the shadows. I will never be able to rest until I find out what it is and why it is here.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months.
2	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in disrepair, with missing equipment and in need ofparticularlystruggle. However, the adventurers seem to be always on the lookout for new territorium, and so the shop remains in use. The prices they give for the goods are Ixnimsht, and the décor is an involved and corduroys-style office chair. Despite the Hodgson place being Nameyville, the party is three days away from their final meeting with the lead Developer. They are force-feeding her important information about the game's development, and she is generous with what she has to offer. The party is led by Hero, Wargnake, and Fortunato, and look forward to their final meeting.	One day, a group of adventurers ran into your shop. They were selling a cache of treasure they'd discovered in a dungeon. The coins and items were old, but the adventurers were determined to make some extra gold. You were happy to help them, but you weren't about to let them take all the treasure. You offered them a deal: If they gave you a specific amount of gold, you would let them keep the rest. They accepted, and they gave you a bag of gold. You took the money and put it in your coffers. Now, the only thing to do was wait for the next group of adventurers to come by.	It was a normal day at the RPG pawn shop. I was bargaining with a group of adventurers, trying to get a good deal on their loot. I was having a hard time getting them to lower their prices, but I knew that I could get them to come back for more if I offered a good deal. Eventually, I got them to agree to let me sell their loot for a lower price than they were hoping for. I was happy to have been able to get them a good deal, and I was sure that they would come back and buy more from me in the future.	You're the owner of a pawn shop that specializes in RPG loot. You've seen it all, from +1 swords to magical amulets, and you know how to haggle with the best of them. Today, a group of adventurers come into your shop, looking to sell some of the loot they've acquired. They have a +2 sword, a magical amulet, and a few other items. You haggle with them for a while, but in the end, you manage to get them to agree to sell you the items for a fair price. You're happy with the sale, and the adventurers are happy with the money they've made. It's just another day at the RPG pawn shop!	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again.
3	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	When you met him, the big liar had already lied about his life three times. Each time, the lie was deeper and bigger. This time, though, he was different. He told the truth and saw the benefit in it. You meet him every day now, and he always tells the truth. Even if it means he makes a big lie out of your life.	The lie that killed my family was one of the biggest that I had ever told. I had convinced myself that I was the one that was taking the blame, that I was the one that was the one that was to blame. I was the one that was going to pay for what I had done. I hadoles family died, and I was the one that was responsible. I hadoles family deserved to die, not me. But that was not what happened. The one that took the blame was not me. My family was not killed, and I was not responsible. I was wrong, and I knew it. I had to try and come to terms with the fact that my family had not actually died, and that I was actually safe. I had to come to terms with the fact that my family was not really dead, and that I could never truly forgive myself for what I had done.	I was skeptical at first, but I decided to talk to him anyways. I was curious about how he managed to survive with only one scar. He told me that he never lied, and that the only way to survive was to be honest. Ever since he embraced this way of life, he has never looked back.	Lies are a part of life. Everyone tells them, whether it's a white lie to spare someone's feelings or a more serious lie to get out of trouble. But in my world, lies have a very different consequence. Each time someone tells a lie, a scar appears on their body. The size and depth of the scar depends on the severity of the lie. I have seen some people with so many scars that their whole body is covered in them. It's a constant reminder of the times they have lied and the pain that it causes. One day, I met someone who only had one scar. It was the biggest and deepest scar I had ever seen. I was curious to know what could have caused such a big scar and asked them about it. They told me that it was from the biggest lie they had ever told. They lied to someone they loved and it caused them a lot of pain. That one lie scarred them for life, both physically and emotionally. This person's story was a warning to me. It showed me that lies can cause a lot of damage, even if we don't mean for them to. From now on, I will be more careful with my words and try to avoid lying, even if it's just a little white lie.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good.
4	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross has been painting landscape movies and movies about his many places that he has killed. He has named several places afterPinterestches and brush tips, but every now and then a place will turn out to be moreieuandgaudy. He has to change the atmosphere a little bit to make it feel like a different place. Bob Ross was very famous for his landscape movies, and people would come to his movies to sight see and see the various places he had killed. Some people might visit his movies to see the beautiful landscapes, while others might visit his paintings to see how they look from a different perspective.	Every landscape painting Bob Ross makes is a real place. Bob has killed many people in these paintings, and each location is based on a real murder that has occurred in the past. Some of the murders are based on famous murders, such as the murder of Marilyn Monroe, while others are moreaday slayings like the shooting of John Lennon. However, no one knows for sure which location is based on which murder, and that's why every painting is so unique.	Bob Ross had a very dark side. Not a joking, happy side where he would paint calming landscapes of running water and fluffy clouds. No, his dark side was where he would killing people, taking their lives in a gruesome and savage way. Ross claimed that he killed all these people because they were ruining his landscapes. But some people believe that he took these lives because he was a serial killer, and that the landscapes he painted were just a cover. No one knows for sure, and the mystery remains unsolved.	Bob Ross was a serial killer. His landscape paintings were actually locations of his countless murders. He would find secluded areas, kill his victims, and then paint them as part of his landscape. No one ever suspected Bob Ross of being a killer because he always seemed so friendly and gentle. But the truth is that he was a cold-blooded killer who enjoyed taking lives.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun.
5	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for his latest research. He puts an ad in a paper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler was a young man at the time. He had just been elected Chancellor of Germany, and he was determined to make Germany the most powerful country in the world. He was also eager to test the theory of psychoanalysis, which was still new and underdeveloped at the time. Joseph Stalin was a powerful man with a long list of accomplishments. He was the leader of the Soviet Union, and he was also responsible for building the Moscow Kremlin. He was interested in psychoanalysis because he thought it could help him understand himself better. Leon Trotsky was a very active member of the Bolshevik Party. He was also a very talented artist. He was also interested in psychoanalysis because he thought it could help him understand the role that art plays in society. Josip Broz Tito was a very influential leader of the Yugoslavian People's Republic. He was also interested in psychoanalysis because he thought it could help him understand the relationships between people and between people and their environment.	Freud was excited to receive responses to his ad for clinical trials. He was especially interested in the young men, believing that their unique perspectives would help him advance his research. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito all responded. They each had their own ideas about how to use Freud's research, but they all agreed to participate in the trials. The trials were grueling. Every day, the men had to answer questions about their thoughts on therapy and psychiatry. But they all agreed that it was worth it. They knew that they were helping to change the world.	Sigmund Freud was always on the cutting edge of research, and his latest endeavor was no different. He was looking for participants for clinical trials of his latest theories and ideas, and so he placed an ad in the local newspaper. He was expecting to get a few responses, but he was surprised when four men showed up at his door: Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were eager to participate in the trials, and Freud was impressed with their enthusiasm. He explained his theories to them and asked them to answer some questions about their own lives and experiences. All four men did so willingly, and Freud was impressed with their insights. The trials went well, and Freud was able to glean a lot of useful information from the four men. They were all gifted thinkers, and he was able to learn a lot from them. In the end, he was glad he had chosen them as participants, and he was sure they would go on to do great things in their respective fields.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The life of an Auditor is difficult enough, but the added challenge of being intelligent and keeping one's eye on the perhaps Gaanthropologicalomo force that governs the universe are not easy enough. Despite being schooled in the basics of heredity and evolution, she still manages to get lost in the noise of the neighborhood. Suddenly, she feels a jolt of electricity as a lightning boltiazonicbeam hits her, causing her to shield her head with one hand as she screamoshies away from the room.	Auditor 6 was feeling ALOT better after her successful mission to prevent the proliferation of the stupidest people in the world. She had finally been able to figure out how to use her brain and stop the stupid things that were happening. However, she never thought she'd have to deal with people like Auditor 7. Auditor 7 was an idiot. She was always arguing with her family and friends, and she was always making fun of Auditor 6. She was also a jerk to everyone she came into contact with. Auditor 6 tried not to take it too personally, but she was starting to feel like she was the only person who could save the world. She was so excited to start her new job, but she quickly learned that things were not as they seemed. Auditor 7 was still around, trying to ruin everything. She would always be arguing, spreading rumors, and making everyone around her feel like they were stupid. It was really starting to get on Auditor 6's nerves. One day, she just had to stand up to her idiot friend. She knew that she could beat her like a posh girl, but she also knew that it would cost her her job. The fight ended with Auditor 7 being kicked out of the office. Auditor 6 was glad that she was able to show her friend that she could do better than her.	When I was born, the doctors installed a birth control device inside of me. I wasn't aware of what was happening, but I always knew it was there. The device was meant to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing, but clearly, it didn't work. I've been an Auditor for years, and I've seen the effects of the device firsthand. It's caused generations of unhappy and unfulfilled individuals. I know I have the power to end the device, but I'm not sure if I'm strong enough to do it. I'm afraid that if I remove it, the world will be full of idiots once again.	As an Auditor, it is my job to determine who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I use a variety of tests and criteria to make my determination. If I believe someone is not up to the task, I deactivate their birth control device. I know that some people believe that this is unfair. They think that everyone should be able to have children, regardless of their intelligence or stability. But I believe that only the best should be able to have children. raising a child is a huge responsibility, and I don't think that everyone is up to the task. There are always exceptions, of course. There are some people who are not very intelligent but are still wonderful parents. But, in general, I think that the dumbest people in the world should not be reproducing.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?
2	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The adventurers are a small group thathave been visiting the pawn shop for a few weeks now. They're always happy to find new and interesting gear, but this time, they're particularly interested in a bag that holds a great deal of treasure. They're not sure if the bag is actually true treasure, or if it's just a fake one. They're also not sure if the bag is safe to carry around with them, given thelocutions string and magic it wields. However, the shop owner is adamant about keeping the bag and none too pleased with the adventurers for trying tosold it to them.	One day, an opportunist ogre comes into your pawnshop and offers to sell an interesting item. He chants a magical spell and the item starts talking to him. The ogre tells stories of his adventures, of his treasures and of the danger he's encountered. He offers the player a 2ndhand copy of the spell for 1 gold piece. The player is intrigued, so they take the ogre's offer and put the spell in their inventory. They then go on their next adventure, populated by different monsters and traps.	James ran his RPG pawn shop for six years, haggling with adventurers who came in looking to sell their loot. He loved the excitement in their eyes as they tried to negotiate down their prices, and the way they would invariably argue about the slightest detail. One day, James was waiting on a group of adventurers who had come in looking for a deal. One of the adventurers, ad said he was looking for a sword that was a little too powerful for his level. James began to bargain with him, but the adventurer was adamant about getting the sword. James tried to talk him down, but the adventurer wouldn't budge. He was about to give up when one of the adventurers in the group said that he had the same sword. The adventurer offered to sell it to the other adventurer for half the price. The other adventurer accepted, and James was able to keep his shop open. He was glad that he had been able to play his part in the adventure and help out a friend in need.	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you're not afraid to haggle hard to get them. Today, a group of adventurers comes into your shop, lugging a huge sack of loot. You can tell they're eager to unload it, so you start to haggle. After a long and spirited negotiation, you finally agree on a price. The adventurers seem happy with the deal, and you're excited to see what kinds of treasures are in the sack. You dump the loot out onto the counter and start sorting through it. There are some nice items in there, but nothing too special. Just as you're about to give up, you spot a small, glittering object at the bottom of the pile. You pick it up and examine it closely. It's a diamond! You can't believe your luck. You haggle the adventurers down to an even better price and walk away with a huge profit. This diamond is going to make your pawn shop the talk of the town!	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide.
3	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross moves from Painting 1, from the quiet town of etna, to the lively city of PetroGRO, where he couldupiternts of tourists. But his new place of pilgrimage is home to a creatures of the night: the Werewolf. The challenges of living in two places is great enough, but living in the place of a Robertson Sisters crime	Bob Ross decided to create his famous landscapers' paintings using actual locations from his many murders. Each painting features a different murder victim and their environment. For example, the painting of the woman at the bottom of the stairs in the mortuary is the murder of mythened artist, Vincent van Gogh. The painting of the secluded beach is the murder of ballistic artist, Richard Nixon. And the painting of the chair in the forest is the murder of Gettysburg military general, Robert E. Lee. The artwork has become a popular tourist attraction and has even been used as the backdrop for TV shows and movies. People always seem to love looking at the paintings and some even say they help them to forget their own lives.	Bob Ross spent his whole life painting the same landscapes, all over the United States. Every painting was based on a real place, but Bob had a secret - he had killed many people in those locations. He would find a lonely spot, sit down, and start painting. With his brush and palette in hand, he would become one with the landscape and purge the memories of his victims.	Bob Ross' paintings are beautiful, tranquil landscapes. But what most people don't know is that each of those landscapes is a real place. And each one is the scene of a brutal murder. Bob Ross was a serial killer who used his painting skills to conceal his crimes. He would find remote locations, set up his easel, and paint. But while he painted, he would also kill his victims. The authorities never suspected Bob Ross of anything because he always seemed so gentle and kind. But in reality, he was a cold-blooded killer. Now, years after his death, people are finally beginning to realize the truth about Bob Ross. His paintings are not just pretty landscapes; they're also the sites of some of the most gruesome murders in history.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh!
4	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that you met at the party was the biggest liar in the world. You had always known they were lying, but you didn't know how to tell them. That's when you decided to start telling them themselves. You wanted to see if they were really lying or if they were just telling you that they were lying. As you walked into the party, the person you met was doing his best to seem Thermal and brave. But you could tell he was really lying in the bottom of that jar. You walked up to him, and before you could even say anything, he was already gone. The person you met had a biggest lie of all times.	You meet this person when you're walking through aByzantine market. They are cleaning the floor, and you see a large, red scar on their arm. You can't help but stare at it, and you wonder what it would feel like to have that much of a wound. Suddenly, you remember your training. You have to be careful not to make any mistakes that could land you in serious trouble. You have to be truthful, and you have to be sure that the person you are lying to is the real person. You decide to tell the person the truth. They don't seem to care, and they continue to clean the floor. You feel a bit risky, but you decide to continue the conversation. Eventually, you get to the part of the story where you make your first mistake. You tell the person that you are from India. They don't seem to believe you, and they continue to clean the floor. You can see the concern in their eyes, and you know that you made a big mistake. You walk away from the market empty-handed. You feel embarrassed and dangerous, and you know that you can't go back to that market again. You have to find a way to make it up to the person you hurt.	I never thought I would meet someone with only one scar. It was the biggest one I had ever seen. It stretched across their entire body, from their hairline to their hip. It was so big, it was almost impossible to see. But I met them, and I fell in love with them. They told me the story of the lie that created that massive scar. It was so big, it took over their life. They said it was the biggest mistake they ever made. But even though it was the biggest mistake they ever made, I loved them for it. Because even though that lie created a deep, dark mark on their body, it also created a deep, dark love in their heart.	Lies are a part of life. We all tell them, whether we mean to or not. But in my world, lies have a consequences. Each time you lie, a scar appears on your body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and more noticeable the scar. I've seen some pretty big scars in my life. But none compare to the one I saw on the person I met today. They had a single, massive scar running down the length of their body. It was so big that it must have been for an incredibly serious lie. I was curious to know what could have possibly caused such a scar. So I asked them. They hesitated at first, but then they told me their story. They said that they had once been in a relationship with someone they loved very much. But over time, that love turned to lies and deceit. The relationship ended in a terrible betrayal that left them heartbroken. The scar is a reminder of that pain. It is a reminder that they will never again let themselves be so vulnerable. I was moved by their story. It was a reminder that even the deepest scars can be healed over time. And that even the biggest lies can be forgiven.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good.
5	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Hitler and Stalin were two of the most important figures in history. They were both known for their different ideologies and their ability to lead their countries to great heights. Trotsky was also a very important figure in the history of Yugoslavia. When the ad was posted, Hitler and Stalin were the only people who responded. Stalin was very interested in the research and wanted to be a part of it. It was revealed that Hitler was also interested in the research. He was going to be using the study to understand the human mind and how it works.	Freud was excited to receive responses to his clinical trial ad. He was eager to test his latest research on some of the most influential people in Vienna. But he was shocked when Adolf Hitler showed up. Freud didn't know what to make of him. Adolf was just a young man at 24. But he had an obvious talent for politics. Franz Josef, the Emperor of Austria, also responded to the ad. He was interested in participating in the trial, but he was also skeptical. He didn't believe that Freud's research would have any impact on the world. Stalin was the last person to respond. He was 35 years old, and he was already well known in Vienna. Freud was curious to see if Stalin's experience would help him in the trial. Tito was the youngest person in the group. But he was already a well-known political figure in Yugoslavia. Freud was worried that he wouldn't be able to deal with Tito's difficult personality. But all of the participants were able to get along well. They all worked hard in the trial and learned a lot of new information. The results of the trial were impressive. Freud's research had a real impact on the world.	It was 1913 and Sigmund Freud was in Vienna, Austria conducting clinical trials for his latest research. He placed an ad in the local newspaper seeking participants and the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. All four men met with Freud and agreed to take part in the trials. Freud was interested in exploring the human psyche and what motivated people to do certain things. He believed that understanding the mind could help to treat mental illness and disorders. The trials lasted for several months and during that time, Freud learned a lot about each of the men. He was particularly interested in Hitler, who he felt was a very complex individual. Hitler was always seeking approval and validation from others and he had a deep-seated need for power. Stalin, on the other hand, was much more cold and calculating. He was ambitious and ruthless, and he was not afraid to use violence to get what he wanted. Trotsky was the most idealistic of the four men, and he was passionate about making the world a better place. Tito was the youngest of the group and he was still trying to figure out who he was and what he wanted in life. The trials were a success and Freud was able to gain valuable insights into the human mind. He continued to work with all four men over the years, and they each had a profound impact on his life and work.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	At sixteen, I was the only auditor in my high school. Everyone elseA) worebj^jyjyjyjed with Auditors around, orB) used other people's birth control to keep their Seconds instead of ours. When I got residency in the medical profession, I- teenth student in the country began to fail classes. He was an Auditor. There was a large metal frame in my room. I was in bed, reading. When I heard the door open, I knew it was time to get up. I had a call from my mom in announces that my dad had a heart attack and would not be able to come to the D&D this weekend. I kissed my	When you were called to the Auditor's office, you knew you had to do something to prevent the spread of stupidity. So you deactivated your birth control device. It was a little bit of a hassle, but you were finally able to raise a well-adjusted human being. Congratulations! You're an Auditor.	I can't believe it. I'm an Auditor. I've been training for years, and now I'm finally going to be able to do what's been asked of me. I'm going to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. It's a tough job, but I'm determined. I'll keep an eye on them, make sure they're behaving and are ready to be parents. I hope it won't be too hard, but I know it will be worth it. Hopefully, the dumbest people in the world will finally learn their lesson and be able to create a decent society without propelling the species further down the drain.	You've been an Auditor for years, and you've never once wavered in your convictions. You believe that everyone should be implanted with a birth control device during puberty, and that only the smartest, most stable people should be allowed to reproduce. It's not an easy job, but you feel it's important work. After all, the last thing the world needs is more dumb, uneducated people. So you go about your job with a sense of duty, making sure that only the best and the brightest are allowed to have children. It's not always popular work, but you know it's necessary. And you take pride in your role in making sure that only the best and the brightest will be able to shape the future of the world.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks.
2	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross has always been a local celebrity. He's known as the artist whose pictures sell in every language, and his pictures of familiar places - like Hong Kong and Venice - are still seen there. One day, he is refused a passport by the police in his home town of Russian River, and he must leave for international storage. But before he can leave, he needs to leave his creative behind - to his many! - and make his way to international market. Bob Ross is first seen Truckley County, Wyo. His pictures are seller's renamed and in high demand, and the people of his small town aren'tadobely 84 years old. He needs to find a new home for his pictures before it's too late.	Bob Ross was a great painter. His landscapes were always full of life and character. But one day, something happened that changed everything. Bob committed multiple murders in different locations, leaving behind paintings of his grisly victims. Each location had its own unique feel, and it was easy to forget that the paintings were even associated with any one particular location. nearly 20 years later, the paintings still sale well and are often seen as some of Ross's best work. However, the murders have taken a toll on Bob's soul, and he often asks people to remember the victims in their communities. But even with the help of his loved ones, Bob can't help but feel what he did was wrong.	Bob Ross was a renowned landscape painter. His paintings of beautiful, calming landscapes were the envy of many. But behind the scenes, Bob Ross was a serial killer. He killed countless people, Location A, Location B, Location C. No one knew the full extent of his crimes, because he always killed in secret. But one day, he was caught. The police found Location D, the scene of one of his many murders. In the painting, he had substituted Location C for Location D. The police knew they had him. Bob Ross was executed for his crimes.	Bob Ross was a prolific landscape painter, known for his soothing voice and gentle demeanor. What few people knew was that each of his landscape paintings was based on a real place - the site of one of his countless murders. Bob Ross was a serial killer who preyed on unsuspecting victims. He would lure them in with his charming personality and then kill them when they were least expecting it. His landscapes were his way of memorializing his victims - each painting was a tribute to the life he had taken. Now, decades later, his paintings are hang in homes and offices all over the world. And each time someone looks at one of his landscapes, they unknowingly bear witness to the horrific crimes that were committed there.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh!
3	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that met you was down and out, and you would often find them buying goods that they knew would never be used. One day, you came across them and you saw theurtle.com for them. They were quot;KISSING THE SONG q The person that met you was down and out, and you would often find them playing the piano together. One day, you came across them and they singing together. You could feel the Hudsense They were quot;KISSING THE SONG q The person that met you was down and out, and you would often find them walking around with only one goal in mind. One day, you came across them and they was singing with you. They had a big smile on their face, and you could feel the Hudsense They were quot;KISSING THE SONG q	He tells you a story of a warship that was sunk by a Merchant Navy ship. The Merchant Navy crew was never found and no one knows what happened to them.Years go by and you hear countless other stories of ships sunk by Merchant Navy ships. One day, you find a story in a archive that tells of a ship that was sunk by a Royal Navy ship. The Royal Navy crew was never found and no one knows what happened to them. You are mysteries to everyone thatyou speak to. They all ask you the same question, "who were these people and what did they do?"	I was drawn to him from the first time I saw him. He had the biggest scar I had ever seen. It wasn't just a small nick or a scrape, it was a huge gouge that ran half way across his chest. It was so big, it looked like it would never heal. I wanted to know more about him and ask him about it, but I was afraid he would refuse to tell me. I was also worried that he would be angry with me for asking. Eventually, I worked up the courage to talk to him. And even though he was hesitant at first, he eventually opened up to me. He told me that he had been through so much pain and suffering, but that he had finally overcome it. He told me that the biggest lie of all was the lie that had created the biggest scar on his body.	You can't help but stare at the person in front of you. They have a single, massive scar running down their face. It's so deep and large that it must have been caused by the biggest lie imaginable. You can't help but wonder what could have caused such a thing. What could this person have lied about that was so big and terrible? You can't help but approach them and ask about their scar. The person looks at you with a sad, tired expression. "It's a long story," they say. "And it's not one that I like to talk about." You respect their privacy and don't press further, but you can't help but wonder about their story. What could have caused such a huge scar?	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room.
4	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is small, and some adventurers seem to dripretly try to leave for ever since the start of the game. So, the shop is where we can offerexchange for these loot. The shop is small, so some adventurers try to leave for ever since the start of the game. So, the shop is where we can offerexchange for these loot.	One day, a nefarious group of adventurers posing as merchants ran into your shop. They wanted to buy some rare treasure they had unearthed, but couldn't seem to find the right price. "We're notarius," the one in the lead said. "We can give you a good price." You weren't sure what that meant, but you agreed. The party then took off with their loot, leaving you resentful.	The door to my pawn shop swung open eagerly, and a young man stepped in. He was wearing fine armor and carried a heavy sword in his hand. He looked around the store, looking for something to buy. "Hello," I said, approaching him. "Do you have anything interesting to sell?" The young man seemed surprised that I had spoken to him. He took a deep breath and shook his head. "No, I'm sorry. I'm just looking for weapons and armor." "Well, we have a wide variety of weapons and armor here," I said. "What kind of weapon do you want?" "I don't know," the young man said. "I've never used one before." "Well, our blades are always in high demand," I said. "Would you like to see our selection?" The young man nodded and followed me to the back of the store. I showed him the different types of blades and swords and explained how they were used. "This one looks interesting," the young man said, pointing to a sword. "It does," I said. "It's called a bastard sword. It's a powerful weapon that's perfect for close quarters fighting." The young man considered the sword for a moment. "I think I'll take it," he said. I was surprised by the young man's decision, but I didn't argue. I wrapped the sword in a cloth and gave it to him, then watched as he left the store.	You run an RPG pawn shop and haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. However, you're not interested in just any old loot. You're only interested in magical items. As such, you're always on the lookout for new and interesting magical items. And, you're willing to pay top dollar for them. One day, a weary adventurer enters your shop with a large sack. He dumps the contents of the sack onto your counter and says, "I'll give you all of this for 500 gold." You quickly scan through the pile of loot and spot a few interesting items, but nothing that really catches your eye. So, you counter with an offer of 1,000 gold. The adventurer haggles with you for a bit, but eventually agrees to your offer and walks out of the shop with a hefty pouch of gold.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!
5	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	Maxwell is a magician, and he knows how to keep the peace and keep the audience entertained. He always has a smile on his face and he loves to give people what they want. One day, a rabbit comes to him with a theory about how to get out of a situation. " shamelessly earning my keep " Maxwell goes with the theory and pulls the rabbit out of the hat. The rabbit is honest and easy to talk to, and he has no idea how to get away with his behavior. But Maxwell makes him feel like he's the only one who needs to be humble. The rabbit becomes more than just another hop over the top of his head.	The magician pulled out the rabbit from his hat and began to work on its ear. The rabbit seemed to be in a lot of pain, but it didn't say a word. The magician looked at the rabbit and began to cry. He loved the rabbit, but it was getting on his nerves. He knew he had to find a way to make the rabbit happy.	The magician was getting a little tired of always having to pull out the rabbit from the hat. He was sick of always playing second fiddle. One day, the magician decided to change things up. He told the crowd that he would pull out the rabbit, but only if they could all guess its name. The crowd was skeptical, but they decided to give it a try. As the magician began to pull the rabbit out of the hat, the rabbit started to get agitated. It didn't like being the center of attention. The magician quickly put the rabbit back in the hat and announced that the rabbit's name was "Jonathan." Jonathan was finally able to be the star of the show and was able to put the magician in his rightful place - as the rabbit who always comes out of the hat.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, the rabbit is fed up with playing second fiddle. The rabbit has had enough of being pulled out of hats and being used as a prop in the magician's act. The rabbit is tired of being treated like a piece of equipment and not as a living, breathing creature. The rabbit decides to take matters into its own hands and starts to speak up during the act. The rabbit interrupts the magician and starts to tell the audience what it really thinks of the act. The rabbit tells the audience that it is tired of being treated like a prop and that it wants to be respected as a living creature. The magician is shocked and does not know how to react. The audience is also shocked and starts to murmur. The rabbit continues to speak and the magician is starting to get angry. The rabbit is not backing down and the magician is losing control of the situation. The rabbit is finally allowed to finish its speech and the audience starts to clap. The magician is angry and humiliated, but the rabbit has finally stood up for itself. The rabbit has shown the magician that it is not just a prop, but a living, breathing creature that deserves to be respected.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is small, but it is Jacob's only stop before he carries on with his adventures. He is always happy to help sell aIrriors and Loot, even though they can only be used for obfuscated purposes. He sells them at aious prices, and his customers are always happy to get something they need.	Once upon a time there was a pawn shop in a small town. It was a taboo to sell loot from CRPGs, so the shop existed as a way for people to trade in their treasures. One day, a group of adventurers come to your shop, looking for something to sell. They've acquired a lot of gear, and they are looking for something to trade for it. The first thing the adventurers ask for is a list of prices for the gear. You give them one, and they offer you a number of different prices. You get to choose one, and then you trade the gear for the appropriate amount of money. The adventurers are happy with the trade, and they leave with some new gear. They tell the shop keeper how happy they are with the experience, and the shopkeeper thanks them for the trade.	I was just about to close up shop for the night when I heard the doorbell ring. I opened the door to see a group of adventurers, all of them looking very excited. "Hey, we've got some loot we'd like to sell you," one of the adventurers said. I assessed the group and decided that they were probably pretty good at fighting, so I started haggling with them. I tried to get them to sell me their weapons and armor, but they weren't budging. Finally, I gave up and let them go. I knew I could get a much better deal on the items if I shopped around a bit, but I was glad I could deal with these adventurers successfully. It made my job a little bit easier.	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for a good deal, and you're not afraid to haggle for it. Today, a young woman comes into your shop, trying to sell a magic sword. It's a rare and powerful weapon, and you can tell she's desperate to get rid of it. You haggle with her for a while, and eventually you come to an agreement. She sells you the sword for a fair price, and you add it to your collection.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!
2	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician has pulled out a rabbit from a hat and he's started to play second fiddle to the little girl. The rabbit is getting lonely and the old man starts to feel a greater need for a Woman of faction who can take on the challenges of magic. Just as the old man is about to step forward, the magician comes to life and cavalryns the rabbit out of the way. He then tells the rabbit that he's been working hard all day and deserves to be first in the night. The rabbit escapees and the old man returns to the daughter with a feeling of accomplishedness.	The magician set up the stage and took the rabbit out of his hat. The rabbit was enraged and tried to run away, but the magician easily caught up to him and pulled him back. "You know, I'd say this is it. You're going to have to play your part and help me out," the magician said. The rabbit gritted his teeth and said, "No way, I'm not doing this. I'm not your puppet." "What do you mean, you're not my puppet? You're the one that's sick of playing second fiddle. I'm the one that's helped you out before, so I deserve to do this again. Just play your part and let me do the magic." The rabbit refused to budge and said, "No way, I'm not going to play this way. I'm not a part of this show." The magician was surprised by the rabbit's display of independence and said, "You're right, you're not a part of this show. But you're still my rabbit, so you're still in my power. I can do whatever I want to you." The rabbit hesitated for a moment and said, "All right, I'll play your part. But I still don't think I'm ready for this." The magician didn't believe the rabbit, but he knew that he had to try something. He pulled out his wand and said, "Now, you're going to do as I say." The rabbit hesitated for a moment, but then he said, "Yes, master."	The magician was tired of having the rabbit always pull him through his tricks. The rabbit was tired of always being the one that got stuck in the hat. One day, the magician decided to take matters into his own hands and pulled the rabbit out of the hat himself. The rabbit was shocked and angry, but the magician was simply glad to have finally rid himself of the pesky creature.	Once upon a time, a magician and his rabbit were performing on stage. The rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle, so he decided to take matters into his own paws. He used his magic to make the magician disappear, and took over the show. The audience loved it, and the rabbit became a star.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
3	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	Once upon a time there was a young man named Andrew who was unlike any other young man in the world. He was an Auditor. Aux applications were tabled until a annual meeting was held to decide what to do. A motion was made that Birth Cuts No Longer BemsonBeens, and the meeting wasdin Eden. The Vice President (or anyone else who may want to be an Auditor) decided that the cost of replaced birth cuts with long-term staring made the decision and the meeting was forced to at least discuss it. Andrew was the only one who could unite all the different groups and make a decision. Andrews model home was an wonders of the world. He could surprise his parents who were always very pleased with the improvement his home had made. Andrew could not only provide for himself and his family, but he could also afford to buy things that he never would have possible before. Andrews time was important. He could prevent other young men from reproducing and make a difference in the world.	At the age of sixteen, you're given your first ever audit. It's a grueling process, and you're tired from the day's work. As you enter the office of the Auditor, you're met with a receptionist. She thanks you for coming, and leaves you to your tasks. As you work, you begin to notice something strange. Everywhere you look, people are wheeling large, black boxes. Some people are carrying them around, while others are setting them up on tables. At first, you don't understand why they're so interested in the boxes. But as you start to think more about it, you realize that these boxes are reallyombs. You panic as you realize that the only way to stop these bombs from going off is to prevent the people whooped threw them. You try to figure out how to do this, but you're too confused. And then, you hear it. The loudest, fastest, and most screeching noise you've ever heard. It's as if an army of birds is being destroyed. You run to the source of the noise, and find that the boxes are being destroyed. People are screaming, and there's blood all over the place. You're terrified as you see the whole office destroyed. The only thing you can think of is to find the Auditors. As you race through the offices, you see the Auditor's office. You know you have to find them if you want to prevent the whole world from going down. As you get closer, you see the Auditor. He's trying to calm the people, but they're hysterical. You try to talk to him, but he's too far away. You try to run to him, but you're too tired. You take a few steps, and then you collapse. You wake up in a hospital bed. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in a hospital. You're in a dark room. You can't see anything. But you know that you're not in the hospital again. You're in a research center. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in a labs. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in a room. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in a future. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in the future. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in the future. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in the future. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in the future. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in a future. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in a research center. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in a room. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in a future. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in a future. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in a future. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in a future. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in a future. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in a future. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in a future. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in a future. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in a future. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in a future. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in a future. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in a future. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in a future. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in a future. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in a future. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in a future. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in a future. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in a future. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in a future. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in a future. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in a future. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in a future. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in a future. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in a future. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in a future. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in a future. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in a future. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in a future. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in a future. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in a future. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in a future. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in a future. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in a future. You're surrounded by people, and you realize that you're not in the hospital again. You're in a future. You're surrounded by people, and you realize	It was a dark and stormy night when the device was implanted. I remember being scared and excited all at the same time. I was sure that this was the best thing that had ever happened to me. I was sure that it would keep me from becoming a dumbass like my parents. But, as it turns out, the device wasn't really meant to keep us from being dumbasses. It was meant to keep us from reproducing. I never thought I'd be an Auditor. But, now, I'm glad that I am. I'm glad that I'm able to keep the world's dumbest people from reproducing. And, most importantly, I'm glad that I'm able to keep my family from becoming dumbasses.	You're an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must evaluate each person's ability to think critically, make sound decisions, and empathize with others. Only the people who pass your evaluation are allowed to deactivate their birth control devices and have children. This system has been in place for many years, and it has effectively prevented the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. However, there are always a few who slip through the cracks. You try your best to catch them, but sometimes you can't. One case that sticks with you is that of a young woman named Sarah. Sarah was considered to be one of the most intelligent and stable people you had ever evaluated. She was kind, thoughtful, and had a great sense of humor. You were sure she would make an excellent parent. Unfortunately, Sarah's life took a turn for the worse shortly after she had her child. She became depressed and withdrawn, and she eventually stopped taking care of her child altogether. The child was neglected and malnourished, and it was only a matter of time before something terrible happened. You were heartbroken when you heard about what happened to Sarah and her child. You know that there are some people who are just too unstable to be parents, no matter how intelligent they may be. Sarah was one of them. You hope that, by continuing to do your job, you can prevent more tragedies like this from happening.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch.
4	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin were both in their early twenties when they responded to Sigmund Freud's ad. They were both satisfied with their roles as officials in the Third Reich and they were excited to take part in the clinical trials of Freud's new research. The other participants in the trial were Leon Trotsky, Josip Broz Tito and Adolf Hitler's older brother, Rudolf. They all knew that their roles in the trial would be short-lived and that they would soon be ousted from power. But they were excited to take part in the trials and to see what Freud's new research could bring. They were also willing to put their skills and their lives on the line for the good of their country.	Freud was excited to begin the clinical trials of his latest research. He put an ad in a local newspaper, looking for participants. Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky, and Tito all responded. Freud was excited to begin the trials. However, he was worried about how the participants would respond. He wasn't sure if they would be able to handle the research. But thankfully, the participants all seemed to be able to handle the tests. They all seemed to be very interested in the research. Freud was happy with the results of the trials. He was hopeful that his research would help improve the lives of many people.	When Sigmund Freud put an ad in the newspaper seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research, he never expected to hear from some of the most notorious dictators in history. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito all responded, eager to be a part of the trials. Freud was hesitant to let them participate, but he eventually relented. The trials were a success, and Freud's research helped to change the way we think about the human mind. However, there was one unforeseen complication: the dictators all developed a taste for power and began to use Freud's methods to control the people around them. The world was plunged into darkness as these ruthless dictators rose to power. But Freud's research had unwittingly given them the tools to do so.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle.
5	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross is a famous painter who lives in every place he paints. He has been in the relevancy of different places, such as his home, that many times. He has many deaths, but the most sale is when he is pregnant. He was once paintings in a single spot, but now he keeps them in several places.	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. The murders take place in different places around the United States, and as each painting is completed, the locations of the murders areInputted into the computer. Recently, the computer has been asking for the murders of victims in New York City, and as the murders there continue to increase, so does the demand for Bob Ross' paintings. With each painting, the demand for the murder locations only grows, leaving the artist with no choice but to continue painting in locations that are increasingly dangerous and unpredictable.	Bob Ross loved his art so much, he killed for it. The painter traveled the world, painting California Coastlines, the Rocky Mountains, and of course, the Emerald Forest. But no place was as special to him as his home state of Alaska. Alaska was beautiful, and the landscape was full of inspiration for him. So many compositions were possible there, with the myriad of landscapes, mountains, and lakes. But Bob Ross wasn't content to paint just landscapes. He loved to capture the atmosphere of each place, to paint the feelings of the people who lived there. So he began to murder innocent people, to take their portraits and paint them in his landscapes. He killed with a paintbrush, slaying people in their homes, in their yards. No one was safe from Bob Ross' art, not even the people he loved. Eventually, the police caught up to him. They found his canvases, filled with portraits of dead Alaskans. They found his brushes, stained with blood. And they found him, painting a beautiful landscape in the middle of a field, surrounded by the bodies of his victims. He was convicted of murder and sent to prison, where he will spend the rest of his days. However, his art will live on, forever painting scenes of gore and terror in the minds of those who see it.	Bob Ross was not your typical painter. For one, his paintings were always of happy little scenes, full of sunshine and happiness. But what most people didn't know was that each and every one of those landscapes was actually a real place. A place where Bob Ross had committed countless murders. It all started when Bob was just a young man, fresh out of art school. He was full of ambition and ideas, but he quickly learned that the art world was not an easy one to break into. So, in order to make a name for himself, Bob started painting landscapes of different locations where he had committed murders. At first, it was just small-time stuff - petty robberies gone wrong, bar fights that had ended in someone's death. But as Bob's fame grew, so did the scale of his crimes. Now, Bob Ross was a wanted man, and his landscape paintings were the only things keeping him one step ahead of the law. Each new painting was like a signpost, leading the authorities to another of Bob's gruesome crimes. But no matter how many times they closed in on him, Bob always managed to slip away, disappearing into the countryside with his brushes and paints. Some say that Bob Ross is still out there somewhere, painting his happy little scenes and hiding the dark truth behind them. Others believe that he finally met his end, justice catching up to him at last. But whatever the truth may be, one thing is for sure: Bob Ross was one of the most prolific murderers of our time, and his landscapes will forever be stained with blood.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	guy one day out of line got birth control deactivated guy two days later in line guy one deactivated his birth control device after getting into some trouble guy two weeks later in line guy one deactivated his birth control device after getting into some trouble guy two weeks later in line guy one deactivated his birth control device after getting into some trouble guy two days later in line guy one deactivated his birth control device after getting into some trouble guy two days later in line	Auditor 2: (To Auditor 1) You should be careful, you may be the only one with the ability to prevent the stupid from reproducing. Auditor 1: Is that a bad thing?	Since everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty, the only way to get rid of it is if someone is determined to be intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. One day, a young man who was determined to be intelligent and stable enough was selected to become an Auditor. He was excited to be chosen, but was a little nervous about the task ahead.	You're an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must evaluate each person's ability to think critically, make sound decisions, and communicate effectively. The birth control devices are implanted during puberty, and can only be deactivated once you've determined that the person is intelligent and stable enough to raise a child. This can be a difficult decision, as some people may be intelligent but not stable, or vice versa. You must weigh all of the evidence carefully before making your decision. If you determine that someone is not ready to have a child, you can recommend that they wait a bit longer or receive counseling to help them prepare for parenthood. This is an important responsibility, as the future of the world depends on ensuring that only the most intelligent and stable people are reproduce.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge.
2	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that you met at the party was the only one left in the world with one lie. The biggest lie of all. You had always thought that she was a liar, but this one scar just different than all the others. You wonder what will happen when you meet her again, but when you look her in the eye, you know that she is the one that you should meet.	You've only seen one scar, but it's the most impressive one. It spans across the entire left side of his face, extending from his brow to his chin. The size and severity of the injury makes you wonder who the person thatdid this to him is. You don't know this person, but you know something about them. They are a liar.	I couldn't take my eyes off her. She was so beautiful and looked so innocent. I wanted to know her, to tell her my secrets. But before I could, she spoke. "I'm sorry, but I can't talk to you. I have a big lie to tell." Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. I couldn't believe she was telling me this. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the scar. She was telling me that she was a liar. And that's when I saw the biggest scar of all. It was so large it bled and covered her entire back. It was the darkest thing I had ever seen.	I was walking through the market when I saw her. She was standing in the corner, alone and looking lost. But what caught my attention was the scar on her face. It was the biggest scar I had ever seen. I walked up to her and asked her what had happened. She hesitated at first, but then she started to speak. "I grew up in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. I only have one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. "I got this scar when I was just a child. I lied to my parents about something small and insignificant. But over time, that lie grew and grew, until it became the biggest lie I had ever told. And now, this is the result." She pointed to her scar and then looked away, ashamed. I didn't know what to say. I had never seen anything like this before. I couldn't imagine living in a world where each lie had such a permanent consequence. But as I looked at her, I also saw strength. She had survived something that would have broken most people. And she was still standing. I told her that I admired her strength and then I left. But her story has stayed with me ever since.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others?
3	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross has been painting landscape paintings for centuries, each of his place being a brandishing hero, representing a placebrooks have in common with his own. Some are small and unassuming, like a simple peasant picking plums off a tree, while others areVERY large and take up a significant part of his studio, like a maiden's blushing child. one can pick it up and carry it with you, knowing that it's there. Even though his victims were often young and old, and had shop- merchandise and scintillate around their groin areas, Bob Ross never localizes his art to any specific place. He keeps score of where he painter gets killed, and places where he has Painters. There is "The Gilded Court" on the East Coast, "The Maids of Death" in the SW, and "The ChristMode" in the NE. ops: What is Bob Ross', true, place?	Bob Ross never thought about his murders until he came across a painting of a place called the Dakota Homestead. 14 years ago, he killed three people there, their spouses and two young children. Now, in the painting, Bob Ross himself is sitting at the dinner table with the families, enjoying a happy meal. The murders have been forgotten, and the painting has become a tourist attraction.	Bob Ross was a talented painter, and his landscapes were some of the most beautiful in the world. However, he was also a serial killer. He would go to various locations around the United States and kill people, painting their scenes in his famous landscapes. No one knows how many people he killed, but the scenes in his paintings tell the story of his crimes.	Bob Ross' landscape paintings are beautiful. But what many people don't know is that each one is based on a real place - the different locations of his countless murders. For years, Bob Ross roamed the country, killing innocent people and using their blood to paint his signature landscapes. He would find a secluded spot, set up his easel, and then wait for his victim. As they approached, he would strike them down, draining their blood into his paint palette. The authorities never suspected Bob Ross, because who could imagine such a pleasant-looking man being a serial killer? But the truth is, he was a ruthless murderer, and his paintings are a gruesome reminder of his crimes.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood?
4	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).. As Freud NicolaiMoving perfect, all evening long,And I Sodom and Gomorrah and all those other charlatan Lampadais ELFŁL give him crimes galore,And he's getting smarter and better at helping himself,emichemprahs and all that's pernicious in the world.	Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin were the first to respond to the ad. They were the only people who wanted to participate in the clinical trials of Freud's newest research. They were excited to be able to help advance Freud's theories and help people. The other participants in the clinical trials didn't have the same excitement. Leon Trotsky wasn't too excited about being a part of the trials. He saw the trials as a way to get power and control over the other people in the country. He didn't want to be a part of anything that would advance Freud's theories. Josip Broz Tito was the last to respond to the ad. He was the most excited about the trials. He saw the trials as a chance to finallyvindicate the work that he and his friend, Lenin, had been working on. He was excited to help advance Freud's theories and help people." The trials were a success. There were many people who participated in them. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito became famous for their roles in the trials. They were known as the "Three Freedoms."	Freud is intrigued by the young, up-and-coming leaders of the world's most powerful countries, and decides to offer them a chance to participate in his latest clinical trial. He sends them all a letter, explaining the nature of the trial and asking if they would be interested. Adolf Hitler responds quickly, eager to test his theories on the human mind. Freud agrees to test him, and the two set to work. Adolf Hitler is a powerful, determined young man, and he quickly emerges as the leader of the trial. He is ruthless in his pursuit of power, and he takes great delight in manipulating Freud. Joseph Stalin is also a powerful participant in the trial. He is a cunning, ruthless leader, and he quickly proves himself to be a formidable opponent. He and Adolf Hitler compete for control of the trial, and Stalin emerges as the victor. Leon Trotsky is a less aggressive participant in the trial. He is philosophical and analytical, and he is able to see the larger picture. He is a valuable asset to the trial, and he proves himself to be a formidable opponent for both Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin. Josip Broz Tito is the youngest participant in the trial. He is impetuous and volatile, and he is not afraid to fight for what he believes in. He is a passionate young man, and he quickly emerges as the leader of the group. He is able to see the larger picture, and he is able to work well with both Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin. The six participants in the trial work together to test Freud's theories on the human mind. They are able to find evidence that supports Freud's claims, and they are able to make significant progress in the field of psychology. Their rivalry and competition is a valuable part of the trial, and it helps them to see the larger picture and to reach their goals.	It's 1913, and Sigmund Freud is looking for participants for his latest clinical trial. He puts an ad in a newspaper, and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men are eager to participate in the trial, and each one has their own reasons for doing so. Adolf Hitler is hoping to gain a better understanding of himself and his own mind. Joseph Stalin wants to learn more about human psychology so that he can better control the people around him. Leon Trotsky is hoping to gain insights that will help him in his political career. And Josip Broz Tito simply wants to learn more about the human mind. The trial is conducted over the course of several weeks, and each man undergoes a series of tests and interviews. At the end of the trial, Freud is left with some fascinating data. Adolf Hitler is found to be highly intelligent and ambitious, with a strong drive to succeed. He is also found to be highly narcissistic and egocentric, with a complete lack of empathy for others. Joseph Stalin is found to be highly intelligent and analytical, with a great capacity for both good and evil. He is also found to be highly manipulative and power-hungry, with a complete lack of empathy for others. Leon Trotsky is found to be highly intelligent and idealistic, with a great capacity for both good and evil. He is also found to be highly passionate and charismatic, with a strong belief in his own abilities. Josip Broz Tito is found to be highly intelligent and hardworking, with a great capacity for both good and evil. He is also found to be highly pragmatic and pragmatic, with a strong belief in his own abilities. At the end of the trial, Freud is left with some very interesting data on some of the most influential figures of the 20th century.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ).
5	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The Assignment is a small home with an unknown materialy hidden inside. The material is little known about or unpopular with most of the family. As the family travels through the house, they find something valuable and homeigning in the basement, theyonaly deal with the issue.	One day, I found something hidden in my home. It was an invisible being, and I didn't know what to do about it. I tried to expose it, but it wouldn't let me. It seemed to be waiting for me, and it wasn't going to let me go until I revealed my attention to it. I couldn't do that, and so I found myself powerless against the being. It was like it was waiting for me, and I couldn't get away from it.	I had always sworn that I was just being paranoid, that there was nothing lurking in the corners of my home, watching me from behind the walls and furniture. But then one day, I woke up to find that my fears had been realized. There was an invisible creature living in my home, and I couldn't muster the courage to confront it. I just sat there, frozen in fear, as the creature stalked around my room.	For years, I've been aware of the invisible presence in my home. It's always there, lurking in the shadows, watching me. I've never been able to expose it, but I've never let it know that I'm aware of its presence. Tonight, I'm finally going to try to expose it. I'm going to set up a camera in my living room and leave it running all night. Hopefully, whatever is living in my home will show itself on camera. I'm feeling nervous as I set up the camera. I have no idea what I'm going to see. But whatever it is, I'm determined to finally expose it.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The devices are always deactivated when he reaches the age of 25. Even though he's been using birth control for years, he hasn't ever gotten comfortable with being an Auditor. The devices are there to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, and he is one of the dumbest people in the world. He has been living alone since he was 23, and has never left his house again since. Heno is the only one who knows he's there, and she is always happy to see him. They chat and watch TV until he says he needs to go to bed. When he wakes up the next day, he is very embarrassed and want to fustrated been an Auditor. Heno tells him that he is just fine now, and that he needs to remember what he is worth. They hug and he is soon asleep.	When you're born, you're implanted with a birth control device that can only be deactivated once you're considered intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an Auditor. You're excited to begin your life, but it soon becomes clear that you'll have to be careful not to screw things up. You're taught the important things early on, but you always have something to worry about. You're constantly on the lookout for signs that your implants are going to screw up. You don't know how long you can keep up this level of vigilance, but you have to. If you don't, the world will be in danger. You have to keep your mind sharp and your skills sharp. You have to be able to think on your feet and solve problems. You have to be able to plan and control your actions. You have to be able to think outside the box. It's a lot, but you're willing to do it. You're willing to risk everything for the betterment of the world.	When I was fourteen, I was implanted with a birth control device. It was a big, uncomfortable, and permanent thing, but I was glad it was there. I was worried that if I ever got pregnant, it would be the dumbest thing I ever did. I was right. Being an ``Auditor'' is a lonely job. You spend your days reading people's minds, looking for any signs of stupidity or instability. If you find any, you deactivate the birth control device, and that person is allowed to have children. It's a tough job, but it's one I'm proud to have. I'm sure there are other Auditors out there, doing the same thing, trying to keep the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. Thanks, birth control device.	You are an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to have children. It's a difficult job, but you take it seriously. You have to weigh each person's individual merits and decide if they are truly capable of raising a well-adjusted human being. It's not an easy job, but you know the stakes are high. If the wrong people have children, it could lead to even more problems in an already struggling world. So you do your best to make sure that only the best and brightest are able to reproduce.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge.
2	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The adventurers are an dunedore population of Hopkins-like people, emotionless and fiercely independent. One by one, they're leaving the shop, each one carrying a few coins and a social Enhorient. As they leave, the shop-owner has one final line of advice. "Don't sell yourself"	One day, I was sitting at my pawn shop, happily bargaining with adventurers who had just acquired some excellent gear. Suddenly, someone walked in, and I quickly went to greet them. It was a familiar face: the player known as The Rogue. "Hey," I said, "What brings you to my shop?" "I was hoping I could buy some gear," he replied. "I can't help you," I said. "I'm quite busy." "It doesn't matter," he said. "I'll come back another time." "Okay," I said, "But remember, I'm always happy to haggle."	It was a typical day at the pawn shop. The customers came in, I haggled with them, and they left with new equipment or weapons. It was a pretty normal routine, until I got a call from a group of adventurers. They had found an old tomb, and they had some amazing loot waiting for me inside. I eagerly agreed to meet them at the tomb, and I quickly worked out a deal with them. I would give them a cut of the loot, and they would leave with new equipment, fresh supplies, and all the glory. As they left my shop, I couldn't help but feel excited. I had always loved adventuring, and now I had the chance to make some really big profits. I knew that I would be able to make my shop a household name, and I could gain invaluable experience along the way. I couldn't wait to see what lay ahead for me!	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're a savvy businessperson, and you know how to get the best deals. often, adventurers come into your shop trying to sell loot they've acquired on their latest quest. You're a shrewd negotiator, and you always get the best prices. You're also familiar with all of the latest RPG trends, so you're able to advise your customers on the best course of action for their loot. You've built up a loyal following of customers who appreciate your expertise. They know that you always have the best deals on the latest and greatest RPG gear. Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this story.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!
3	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	jc The most secret thing I could think of is an animal house. I've been trying to find a place for it in my home because I know it would be happy and healthy. I know I can't go on living without it, so I'm trying to think of any possible place it could go. But somehow I just cannot think of a place to put it.	One day, I was sitting in my chair, leafing through my magazines when I noticed something moving in the corner of my eye. I tried to ignore it, but it kept moving and soon enough, I realized it was an unseen entity. I began to feel like it was following me, managing to make itself known to me only when it needed to. I tried to ignore it, but it seemed to want me to pay attention. I started to feel like it was trying to get me to do something. I didn't know what it was, but I had a feeling that it was something sinister. I abandoned my magazines and got up to face the thing. I was filled with terror at what I had seen. It was as though the entity knew what I was up to, and it made itself known with a chilling voice. "You will exposures and you will know why."	I've always been a bit of an skeptic when it comes to things that I can't see. Sure, I'll believe in ghosts and monsters if I see them with my own eyes, but anything else is just unsubstantiated nonsense to me. That is, until one day my home came into possession of an invisible being. It started out as just a strange sensation, like something was watching me from the corner of my eye. But as I started to pay more attention to it, I realized that the feeling was coming from all around my home. I tried to ignore it, but the feeling only got stronger, like the being was purposely trying to make itself known to me. I knew that I couldn't just ignore it, so I started to take pictures and record videos of the phenomena to try and capture the being's true form. But no matter what I did, the being always managed to slip away before I could get a good picture or video of it. The feeling of being watched still lingers in my home, but I'm starting to think that the being is just a figment of my imagination. If that's the case, then I'm glad that I was able to identify and expose it before it managed to truly scare me.	I have always known that something invisible lives in my home. I can't see it, but I can feel its presence. It's always there, lurking in the shadows, watching me. I have never been able to expose it, but I have tried. I have set traps and tried to catch it, but it always seems to be one step ahead of me. One day, I decided to try to confront it. I waited until it was dark, and then I turned all the lights off in the house. I sat in the middle of the living room and called out to it, "I know you're there. Show yourself!" At first, nothing happened. But then, slowly, a figure began to materialize in the darkness. It was a shadowy figure, hard to see. But I could make out its outline. It was human-like, but there was something off about it. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. The figure floated closer to me, and I could feel a cold chill emanating from it. It was like all the air had been sucked out of the room. I tried to get up, but I couldn't move. I was paralyzed with fear. The figure came closer and closer until it was right in front of me. I could see its eyes now, and they were black and soulless. I opened my mouth to scream, but no sound came out. I was frozen in place, unable to move or speak. The figure reached out and touched my cheek, and I felt a cold jolt of electricity course through my body. Then, everything went black.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself.
4	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	facebook "What are you doing here?" "I'm here to see the front of the store" "Why?" "To buy a pack of shortbread." "Why do you need a pack of shortbread?" "I need to make a cake." "Why don't you let me buy you a pack of shortbread?" "I don't know, I don't have any money." "Why do you want a pack of shortbread?" "To make a cake." "So you are aacia'sBottom." "I am not aata's Bottom." "You are not aata's Bottom." "I am not aata's Bottom." "You are not aata's Bottom." "I am not aata's Bottom." "You are not aata's Bottom."	You meet someone that you cannot help but feel drawn to. He seems so vulnerable and lost, and you want to help. You start to tell him the truth, and soon you realize that the lie has caused him a lot of pain. When you finally reveal the truth, he is shell-shocked. His entire world has collapsed, and he has never been this vulnerable before. You feel awful that you let him down, but you can't help but understand his pain. Together, you work to get back on track and make things right.	I was never really good at lying. It was always hard for me to spin a story that made myself look good, or to make up a believable lie. So, when I met him, I was really surprised. He only had one large, deep scar on his body- the biggest one I had ever seen. It looked like it had been inflicted with a serious injury. I was curious about it and asked him about it. He told me that he had survived a childhood bomb attack. The explosion had killed his family and left him with this massive scar. I was fascinated by his story and the courage it must have taken to survive such a horrific event. From then on, I always made it a point to talk to him and learn more about his life.	In a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body, Anne was used to seeing people with all sorts of marks. But when she met John, she was surprised to see that he only had one scar. It was the biggest one she had ever seen. "What's the story behind your scar?" Anne asked. "It's a long story," John said. "But the short version is that I was once in a relationship with a woman who lied to me. A lot. And each lie left its mark." "So, your scar is from the biggest lie she ever told you?" "Yes. And it was also the last lie she ever told me. After that, I ended things." "I'm sorry," Anne said. "That must have been really tough for you." "It was. But it was also a learning experience. I realized that I deserved better than to be with someone who wasn't honest with me." John's story was a harsh reminder for Anne to always be truthful in her own relationships. And she was grateful to him for sharing it with her.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control.
5	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is looking for participants in his latest research trials of new methods to treat mental illness. He puts an ad in a newspaper and the only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, Josip Broz Tito.	Adolf Hitler read the ad and decided to apply. He was interested in Freud's work on compensation and political productivity. Joseph Stalin was also interested in the research, as he was working on a new plan to improve Russia's economy. Leon Trotsky was also interested in the research, as he hoped to find a way to overthrow the Bolshevik regime. And Josip Broz Tito was interested in the research, as he hoped to find a way to end World War II. All of the applicants were excited to be participating in the clinical trials. Adolf Hitler was the only one who wasn't excited. He wasn't sure if he was cut out for the research. But he knew he had to try out for the trials. He started to applying to the trials, but he wasn't able to get in. He was out of quota. But he wasn't deterred. He knew he had to try again. He started to apply again, but he still wasn't able to get in. He was out of quota. But he was determined. He knew he had to try again. He started to apply again, but he still wasn't able to get in. He was out of quota. But he was determined. He knew he had to try again. He started to apply again, but he still wasn't able to get in. He was out of quota. But he was determined. He knew he had to try again. Finally, he was able to get in to the clinical trials. He was excited to be participating in the research. And he was looking forward to learning what Freud's latest findings were.	Freud was thrilled when he received the responses to his ad. He was especially excited to learn that Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin were interested in participating in his clinical trials. However, he was dismayed when Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito refused to participate. Freud was puzzled by Trotsky's decision. He knew that Trotsky was one of the most talented and eminent thinkers in Europe, and he thought that he would be a valuable participant in the clinical trials. However, Trotsky apparently didn't believe in Freud's theories, and he didn't want to invest the time and effort into learning them. Freud was also puzzled by Tito's decision. He knew that Tito was a great leader and leader of a powerful country. However, he didn't seem to be very interested in Freud's theories. Freud didn't know what to make of it, but he was sure that he would figure out what was going on eventually.	Sigmund Freud was eager to get started on his latest research project. He had high hopes for his new clinical trials and was keen to find participants. He placed an ad in the local newspaper, seeking participants for his research. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was surprised that such high-profile individuals had signed up for his research. He was even more surprised when he met them in person. Hitler was a young man, just 24 years old. He was confident and charismatic, with a clear vision for the future. Stalin was a few years older, at 35. He was a forceful personality, with a strong belief in his own abilities. Trotsky was also in his early thirties, and was a highly intelligent man. He was articulate and had a quick wit. Tito was the youngest of the group, at just 21 years old. He was a passionate man, with a burning desire to make a difference in the world. Freud was impressed with all of his participants. He was certain that his research would be a success.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The Invisible Home is a secret. It's not safe to visit the home because it's known to the home's "associates." Even though the home is tiny, the resident knows that it's there. She's just waiting for a reason to go back and look at it.	I was going through my home one day and noticed something was different. I Could faintly hear something moving around in the corners of my eye, but I couldn't tell what it was. I kept moving around, making sure I didn't leave any evidence that I was aware of what was happening. I eventually decided to face the thing head on. I walked up to it, and there it was, right in front of me. It was a small, white, hole in the wall. It was scaring me, but I couldn't help but feel like I was in danger. I tried to Reach out to it, but my hand was stuck. I could feel the fear coursing through my veins, and I didn't know what to do.	I always thought my house was strange. There was this thing, or thing, that I couldn't see, but I knew it was there. I couldn't put my finger on it, but something just didn't feel right. I would try to expose the thing, but it would always slip away before I could get a good look. I would try to ask my roommates if they had seen it, but they all just laughed at me. I was so paranoid about it that I started locking my doors at night. I didn't know what was coming for me, but I was ready for it. Until one night, my door was unlocked when I got home. I cautiously step inside, only to find my apartment completely empty. I'm starting to get worried now, what could have happened to my roommates? But as I start looking around, I notice something moving in the corner of my eye. I turn to see that my "thing" is right there, watching me. I start to back away, but it charges at me, out of the shadows and into the light.	I had always felt like I was being watched in my home. I would see things move out of the corner of my eye, but when I turned to look, nothing would be there. I knew I wasn't crazy, so I decided to set up a camera to see if I could catch whatever it was on film. Sure enough, the camera picked up something moving around my house. It was invisible to the naked eye, but on film it was clear as day. I had no idea what it was, but I knew I had to find out. I started to set traps to try and capture it, but it was always one step ahead of me. It was like it knew what I was doing. I was starting to get frustrated, until one day I finally caught it. It was a little boy, no more than seven or eight years old. He was completely invisible, except for his eyes. When I confronted him, he simply smiled at me and then vanished into thin air. I never saw him again, but I know he's still out there somewhere. Watching me.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait.
2	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is small, but it is successful. You takeeller is right, there is something interesting worth selling to adventurers. You try to keep the prices low, but some buyers are more interested in the treasure inside the game borrower. The game is so rare, some adventurers are even offering full prices. But you know they aren't real adventurers. They are lure players to the game, then sell the clothes and weapons they see. The game is gold, but you don't care.	The RPG pawn shop was always a busy place. People came in to sell all kinds of equipment, weapons, and magic items. But today, something was different. There were more people than usual coming in, but the atmosphere was not the Same. The adventurers who usually came in to sell their loot were not there. In their place was a man, who was not walking around as usual. He was instead sitting at the counter, looking at the items on the shelves. The shopkeeper noticed the man and asked him what was wrong. The man didn't answer for a while, and then he spoke. "I'm sorry, I don't think I'm going to be able to sell anything today."	Samantha ran her RPG pawn shop with a practiced hand. She knew how to haggle with adventurers, and she enjoyed beating them down on price. Usually, she could get adventurers to sell her items for a fraction of their worth, but today was different. A group of adventurers had just come into the shop, and Samantha could tell that they weren't going to be easy to deal with. They were bargaining aggressively and looking to land the biggest purchase of the day. Samantha was used to this, though. She always managed to come out on top in negotiations. She smiled at the adventurers and started to speak.	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you're not afraid to lowball people. Today, a young woman comes into your store with a sack full of loot. She looks tired and dirty, like she's been on a long journey. "How much for this?" she asks, dumping the loot on the counter. You examine the loot. There are some valuable items here, but you know the woman is desperate. "I'll give you 50 gold for the lot," you say. The woman looks disappointed, but she doesn't have the energy to haggle. She takes the gold and leaves. You know you got a good deal, but you can't help but feel a little bad for the woman. She looked like she really needed the money.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!
3	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross is a famous painter who represents the shooting points of ouroples lives. Each of his landscape paintingsstate a real place or a day out with friends. Some are small jobs like on a beach, while others are larger paintings withrekantes andYP'd features. Some are simple photos of places he's been, like an overlook or his home state of northcarolinatrails. Others are fully padrinoed places like on the water's edge or in the forested hills. His work is evergreen, that each place we visit will see one or more of his paintings.	Bob Ross was an American painter and art director who is most well-known for his landscapes. Many of his paintings are based on real location, such as his infamous "Midsummer's Day" painting, which features a painting of an orange grove in the middle of a field. However, one of Ross' most infamous paintings is his "Midsummer's Day" painting, which features a painting of an airplane over the serene landscape of Sussex, England. The painting was based on the murder of an RAF fighter pilot by one of Ross's fans, which took place in 1978.	It was a beautiful day out, and Bob Ross was out painting his landscapes. He loved painting the mountains, the rivers, and the trees, but he especially loved painting the places where he had killed people. The first painting was of the old mill in the town where Bob had killed three people. The second painting was of the bridge over the river where he had killed two people. The third painting was of the old farm where he had killed four people. Every painting was a new murder, and Bob loved it. He loved the way the paint flowed onto the canvas and the way the colors looked on the surface. As he painted, Bob couldn't help but think about all the people he had killed. He had killed them with his brush, and he had killed them with his words. He had killed them with his art, and he had killed them with his own hands. But most of all, he had killed them with his heart.	Bob Ross was a serial killer who painted landscapes as a front for his crimes. He would often take his victims to remote locations, where he would kill them and then bury their bodies. Over time, he amassed a collection of paintings that depicted the various locations where he had committed his murders. law enforcement eventually caught up to him and he was arrested for his crimes. In his confession, he revealed that each of his landscape paintings was actually a real place, and that the different locations were all of the places where he had killed his victims.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor?
4	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	Auditors are persons who are born with a certain task set in mind: to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. It's a great challenge because as soon as humans get Countless adoptions fromGypsies and other such creatures in our city, thosepurses jobs becomerequries. So, everyone is warned and sanitize their environment for around three years before going back in order toas if their job is nothing when all is said and done. ecause on net, we are theaughs and quits Allow us to stay alive.	Auditor 5 had always been a bit of an oddball. Built like a tank, and with agile reflexes that made her hard to handle, she was also often judged as the slowest person in her class. But in the end, she was the most clever. And, most importantly, she was the most able to think on her feet. That's why when she was given the assignment to come up with a way to prevent only the dumbest people from reproducing, she was both excited and terrified. She didn't know what to make of the idea of being forced to wear a contraceptive device all her life, but she knew she could handle it. Finally, she had found a solution that worked for everyone. She implanted a birth control device into each person's bloodstream during puberty, making it easy and safe for them to activate it whenever they felt like it. And, most importantly, they still had the option to keep the device in place even if they didn't feel like reproducing. Now, life was more manageable for all of them. The smartest, luckiest people were able to keep their minds sharp and their noses clean, while the rest of them were forced to stay on their toes and hope for the best.	I was born into a world where birth control was a necessary precaution. Every person in my society was implanted with a birth control device during puberty, in the hopes that we would avoid the repulsive, imbeciles who populated the world. It was a nice thought at first, but as I got older, I started to resent the fact that I was the only person in the world with a birth control device. I felt like an outcast, like I was different from the other students at school. Eventually, I realized that the birth control device wasn't actually preventing the dumbest people from reproducing – it was preventing the intelligent and stable people from reproducing. I removed the device and began to raise a well-adjusted human being, free from the shackles of a society that considered intelligence and stability a liability.	You're an Auditor, tasked with determining whether or not people are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. If they are, then they are allowed to deactivate their birth control device and have children. If not, then they remain unable to have children, in order to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. You take your job very seriously, and have a very high success rate in correctly determining who is capable of being a good parent and who is not. However, there are always a few cases that are difficult to decide, and you have to use your best judgement. One case that you are currently struggling with is that of a young woman named Sarah. Sarah is very intelligent, but she is also very impulsive and has a history of making poor decisions. You're not sure if she would be able to handle the responsibility of raising a child, but you don't want to deny her the chance to have a family if she is truly capable. After much deliberation, you decide to give Sarah a chance. You deactivate her birth control device, and she is overjoyed. She immediately begins trying to get pregnant, and you hope that she will be able to handle the responsibility of raising a child. Only time will tell if you made the right decision.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?
5	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	At the production number, the magician shows the rabbit how to do battle. The rabbit is LDL (Lack of Data in the nightly routine). The magician pulls out his card and says "N/A". The show starts and the rabbit is immediately sickened.	The magician pulls out the rabbit from a hat and sets it up in a corner. "You're a mouse," the magician says. "I'm a magician. I can do whatever I want with you. And I want to do something really, really big." The rabbit just looks up at him and starts to doze off. The magician gets angry. He takes the rabbit by the scruff of its neck and forces it to look at him. "I'm going to show you something amazing," the magician says. "I'm going to take you to a place where no one has ever gone before." The rabbit starts to protest, but the magician is too angry to listen. He takes the rabbit by the scruff of its neck and starts to walk away. The rabbit follows, but it's too confused and tired to fly. The magician stops and looks back at the rabbit. "I told you this was amazing," the magician says. "Now go to bed, rabbit." The rabbit doesn't want to go, but the magician's anger has driven him really, really mad. He pushes the rabbit into a open window and starts to pour water onto it. The rabbit doesn't even have time to scream before it's gone.	The magician was about to finish his show and the rabbit was getting a little sick of being in the hat all the time. "Hey, magician," the rabbit said, "can I ask you a question?" The magician looked at the rabbit and said sure. "How come you always have to be in the hat?" the rabbit asked. "It's really boring, being the only rabbit in the hat all the time." The magician looked at the rabbit and said, "Well, maybe I can change that." And with that, the magician pulled out a magic rabbit hat and put it on the rabbit. From then on, the rabbit was the star of the show and the magician was happy to be on stage with him, playing the role of supporting player.	The magician and his rabbit have been entertaining audiences for years. The rabbit is sick of being the one who is always pulled out of the hat. He wants to be the one who does the magic. One day, the rabbit decides to take matters into his own hands. He hypnotizes the magician and takes over the show. The audience is amazed by the rabbit's magic tricks. The rabbit is finally the star of the show. He knows that he has to perform the best tricks to keep the audience's attention. The pressure is on, but the rabbit is up for the challenge.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The show is finally over. The rabbit is disappointed, but he knows he won't get enough fun from other people after this. He turns his focus to the next person in the stand, and is so happy to see them as an equal. The next person in is a demure young girl, shes happy to see him and Note her name is348. She tells him she's been wanting to talk to him since the show was over. She tells him about her experience with magic, and how it's not what she expected. She shares with him what sheitri had said about him, and he agrees that he is amazing. The young woman is so pleased with what she has seen and feels lucky to have found such a amazing person to help her through the show.	The magician and the rabbit were on stage, the rabbit sick of playing second fiddle. The magician had always thought that the rabbit was a smart guy, but now he could see that the rabbit was just as stupid as everyone else. The rabbit didn't seem to understand why the magician was pulling him out of a hat. The magician explained that it was because the rabbit was tired of being the small player. The rabbit didn't listen, and he kept stopping to get a drink of water from the stream. The magician started to regret ever inviting the rabbit to the show.	The magician and the rabbit were on stage, the rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit said to the magician, "I'm sick of always being the second wheel to your rabbit magic. I want to be the star of the show!" The magician was surprised by the rabbit's words and replied, "I can't help how great you are at magic. You were born to do this." The rabbit was still not happy and said, "That's not good enough. I want to be the best magician that has ever existed." The magician was taken aback by the rabbit's words and said, "I think you can be the best magician that has ever existed." The rabbit was happy that the magician believed in him and said, "Thank you for believing in me. From now on, I'm going to work hard and be the best rabbit that has ever existed."	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is visibly unhappy. It seems like it has had enough of being the magician's assistant. Finally, it has had enough and decides to take matters into its own hands. The rabbit pulls a magic wand out of the magician's hat and points it at the magician. The next thing the magician knows, he is in a cages and the rabbit is free. The rabbit is now the star of the show and the magician is nothing more than a captive audience member.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it?
2	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin and Leon Trotsky were all letters in Freud's waiting room. They were all there because they had been chosen to participate in his clinical trial of his latest research. It was a choice they could not make any other way. They were all nominations from the top of the Nazi party. "You might think that it's a sign of our scientific superiority that we can get these great minds to come and participate in our trials," said Dr. Freud. "But the truth is, we can't have them if we don't have the support of the German people." So the three new participants in Freud's clinical trial took their seats on the waiting room chairs. They all knew what was coming. TheExperiments were going to start.	Freud was very excited to test his latest theory on clinical trial participants. He put an ad in a newspaper, and the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was excited to see how each participant would responded to the new treatment. He was very surprised when all four participants responded positively to the treatment. Hitler even claimed that he had finally found the key to conquering Europe. Freud was very impressed with the young Yugoslavian leader, Josip Broz Tito. He was amazed at how quickly Tito had grasped the theory. Freud was also surprised to see that Trotsky had also responded positively to the treatment. The young Soviet leaders were eager to learn more about the treatment. They asked Freud many questions about the process. Freud was happy to share his knowledge with them. Freud was very happy with the results of the clinical trial. He was confident that his new treatment would help solve many of the world's problems.	Sigmund Freud was a pioneering thinker in the field of psychology, and his latest research was on the topic of the subconscious mind. He was looking for participants for clinical trials of his theories, and so he placed an ad in a local newspaper. The only people who responded to the ad were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their early twenties, and they were all eager to learn more about Freud's research. The four men met with Freud, and they discussed his theories at length. They were all fascinated by what he had to say, and they were eager to put his theories to the test. Over the course of the next few weeks, the four men underwent a series of tests and trials, all designed to help Freud better understand the subconscious mind. They were all quite cooperative, and Freud was able to glean a great deal of information from them. At the end of the trials, Freud was satisfied that he had gathered enough data. He thanked the four men for their participation, and they all went their separate ways. Who knows what might have happened if these four men had never met? Would they have gone on to change the world as we know it? We'll never know for sure, but it's certainly an interesting thought.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word.
3	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The something invisible was always there, lurking in the corner of your eye, until you finally began to exposure it. But it was too late. The something invisible was already too aware of you for anything to survive.	One day, I found a small, bumpy object hidden in my home. I couldn't believe it was there, but I didn't want to let it know I knew. I tried to ignore it, but it seemed to follow me everywhere. I started to feel paranoid, and I didn't know what to do.	I was cleaning out my closet and I came across an old box. I had forgotten all about it and I had never used it. I opened it and I saw a tattered old cloak. I didn't know how it got there, but I knew that it was connected to me somehow. I tried to remove it from the box, but it was glued to the cardboard. I could feel the cloak brushing against my skin and it made me feel uneasy. I decided to leave it there and deal with it later.	I was always aware that there was something invisible living in my home. I could never quite put my finger on what it was, but I knew it was there. I would often find things out of place, or hear strange noises in the middle of the night. I decided to try and expose it. I set up a camera in my living room and waited. For weeks, nothing happened. I was about to give up when I finally caught something on film. It was a figure, shrouded in a cloak. It was moving around the room, seemingly unaware that I was watching it. I followed the figure and eventually cornered it in my kitchen. I confronted it and demanded to know who it was and what it wanted. The figure simply looked at me and then vanished into thin air. I was left baffled, but also convinced that there was indeed something invisible living in my home. I still don't know what it is, but I'm not afraid of it anymore.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait.
4	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is small, and even with the few adventurers who come in, you've only been selling goods to people for a few days. You're not sure why they're interested in your goods, but you're willing to make them wait. And wait they do, for the seafood they're selling is Isn't thatrien?	I was always a bit of an entrepreneur. I loved running pawn shops, and I especially loved negotiating with adventurers. They're always so eager to trade – sometimes they might have just picked up a new sword or shield, and I could just tell they wanted to get as much treasure as possible. But sometimes, they would just want to sell their stuff. And I couldn't do anything but let them. I loved how excited they were to finally be able to share in my profits. One day, I heard about an opportunity for me. A group of adventurers was trying to sell a magical item. It was beautiful, but it didn't have any uses. It was just a nice statuette, nothing more. But I could use it. And I was willing to trade it to the adventurers. They accepted, and soon I was making some real money. I was so transactions happy.	I run an RPG pawn shop, and I love it. I get to haggle with adventurers who come in looking for a good deal on their newly acquired loot. I always try to give them the best deal I can, and I always have a few tricks up my sleeve. I've always been good at bargaining, and it's something that I enjoy doing. I've had a few famous adventurers visit my shop, and they all seemed to have a lot of fun bargaining with me. It's always interesting to hear their stories and hear about the loot that they've acquired. I've even been able to sell a few pieces of loot to some of the most famous adventurers in the world. I love my job, and I'm sure that I will continue to run my pawn shop for many years to come.	You're the proprietor of an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who come in, trying to sell loot they've acquired on their travels. You're a master of the trade, and you always get the best deals. Today, a young woman comes into your shop, lugging a heavy sack. She looks exhausted, and she's sweating profusely. "I've got some loot for sale," she says. You take a look inside her sack and your eyes widen. There's a fortune in there! You start to haggle with her, but she's so exhausted, she doesn't even try to negotiate. She just wants to get rid of the loot and be done with it. In the end, you walk away with a huge haul, and the woman walks away empty-handed. It's just another day in the life of an RPG pawn shop owner!	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me.
5	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The scar is anwesting with the liar's body as they rightfully deserve. It is deep and large, limiting their ability to live life to the fullest. The only solution is to let them die, but they can't, so they make the decision to kill the person.	You meet someone that tells you a lie that will change your life. They say that they are a victim of abuse and that they need your help. They tell you that they have never been this able to lie before. They plead with you to help them, and to believe them. You take them into your home and listen to their stories. You see the evidence of their abuse and you empathize with them. You also see the lie that they are telling you and it devastates you. You realize that you have been taken in by this person and that you have done something that you can never undo.	I was curious to see what kind of person would have the biggest scar on their body. I followed the person until they stopped and I could see their back. The scar was so big, it looked like it had been cut out of their flesh. It was an ugly, deep purple color and it was crisscrossed with lines. The more I looked at it, the more questions I had. Who did this to them? Why? I didn't know how to ask them, so I just stood there for a while. They didn't notice me, they were too busy staring at their scar. Finally, I timidly asked, "What happened to your back?" The person turned around and looked at me incredulously. "What do you think happened to my back?" They asked, the hostility in their voice clear. "I was lied to. I was cheated on. My life was destroyed because of someone's lies." I could feel my own eyes filling up with tears, and I shook my head. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "I didn't know." The person shook their head, their hair falling into their face. "It's okay," they said. "Lies destroy us all in different ways. But at least I have my big, scar to remind me never to trust someone again."	I was walking through the city when I saw her. She was sitting on a bench, and I could see the scar on her forehead. It was the biggest one I had ever seen. I went up to her and asked her about it. She told me that she had lied about something very important, and the scar was a result of that. I was intrigued by her story and asked her to tell me more. She told me that she had lied about her age. She had said she was 18 when she was really only 16. The scar was a result of that lie. I couldn't believe it. I asked her why she had lied, and she told me that she had wanted to be able to vote in the election. She felt like her voice wasn't being heard, and she wanted to make a difference. I was amazed by her story. I had never met anyone with a scar like that before. It was a reminder of the power of lies and the consequences that can come with them.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	It was nighttime and the only thing that could be heard was the silence. Thearer was getting late now, they were going to need to find a way to leave this place before it was too late. They had no choice but to find a way to leave this place. They walked for hours, they were out of ideas. They had no idea what to do, where to go or when they would come back. They had no idea what was happening to them. Suddenly, they heard a presence next to them. It was coming from behind, it was coming from the other side of the building. They were gettingDM pleted.	You meet this person on a trip to a nearby ruins. They tell you about a fight they had with a group of other people. In the fight, they got the better of the other group and they took their belongings. They tell you their story, and as they tell it, the story changes. The bigger the lie, the greater the physical and emotional harm it has caused. Eventually, the other group turns on the liar and they are forced to leave them alone. The liar chooses to stay and face the consequences of their actions. As they walk away, they notice a large scar on their back. It isn't the biggest or deepest one, but it is the one that matters the most.	I had never seen anything like him. He was the most incredible person I had ever met. His story was so sad, but his eyes were bright and full of life. He told me about how he had lied so much and how it had taken a toll on his body. But the biggest and deepest scar was the one on his soul. He had never told a lie that had caused any real harm, but all of his lies had created damage.	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. It's a way for everyone to be able to see the truthfulness of a person, and it's something that's been a part of your life for as long as you can remember. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar. It's the biggest one you have ever seen, and it runs all the way down their face. You can't help but wonder what could have caused such a large scar. As you get to know this person, you find out that they have a lot of secrets. They've lied about their past, their present, and their future. They've lied so much that their one scar has become a symbol of all the lies they've ever told. Even though they've lied, you can't help but be drawn to them. Their story is one of pain and suffering, but also of hope and resilience. You see the good in them, despite all of their lies. In a world where the truth is scarred into our skin, this person has taught you that sometimes the biggest lies can hide the most beautiful truths.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne.
2	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	TheShop is run by a young man named Enzo. He is a quick learner and has a wealth of knowledge for those who need it. He is not one to back down from a battle and his shop is the perfect place for adventurers to sell their treasure to protect themselves from being prospected.	It was a typical day at the pawnshop. I was bargaining with a group of adventurers, trying to get them to sell some of their plunder that they had acquired during their travels. Some of the items I was able to try and bargain for were more common than others, but I always found myself taking the best deal I could. One of the adventurers, a young man named Ethan, was particular interested in a treasure I had been trying to get my hands on for a while. I finally found it and offered him a good price, but he didn't take it. "I'm not going to let you just take it," he said. "I'm going to have to fight for it." "I see," I said. I had seen this type of resolve in Ethan before. He was a powerful fighter and he was sure he was going to be able to take whatever the treasure was. I looked around the pawnshop and saw that most of the adventurers were done for the day. It was a typical day at the pawnshop, but that didn't stop Ethan from coming over to me. "I'm going to have to fight for this treasure, Mason," he said. "I wouldn't let you just take it." I nodded and smiled at him. I knew that he was serious. He was a powerful fighter and he was sure he was going to be able to take whatever the treasure was.	Most days, Ruby Rose was content to sit behind the counter of her RPG pawn shop and haggle with adventurers who came seeking to sell their acquired loot. She loved the thrill of the negotiations and the way that she could get something for much less than it was worth. Today was different. A group of four adventurers had entered the shop and immediately set to bargaining. Ruby was used to players who were either too proud or too naïve to consider her offers, but these four were anything but. They were shrewd, calculating creatures and they quickly realized that they could get much more money out of Ruby than she could out of them. They tried to bait her with highball offers, but Ruby was unafraid. She knew that if she stuck to her guns, she could always get the better deal. In the end, the four adventurers left the shop with nothing but scorn on their faces, and Ruby was left with a smile on her face. She knew that she would get them back eventually, and she was looking forward to the challenge.	You've been running your RPG pawn shop for years now, and you've seen all sorts of adventurers come through your doors. Some are trying to sell off loot they've acquired, while others are looking to buy new equipment for their next quest. No matter what they're looking for, you're always ready to haggle. You know the value of every item, and you're not afraid to talk down the price or drive up the cost, depending on what you think the customer can afford. It's not always easy to please everyone, but that's part of the fun. You never know who's going to walk through your door next, and what they might be looking for. One thing's for sure, though: your shop is the go-to place for all things RPG-related in the area. And you wouldn't have it any other way.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!
3	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	You come out of a hat as the next victim of magician Burt'reens' alleged Experiments Zadista. Zadista is a process that results in the rider taking control of the bike, regardless of where the bike is in the race. The riders start to gain control, pulling each other up against will. When they finally succeed in taking the race down from the track, the magician is the only one still in control. Zadista is won, the rabbit is lost, and the cycle begins anew.	The magician pulled out the rabbit from his hat and put it in front of him. "This is your new rabbit," he said. The rabbit looked up at the magician with expectant eyes. The magician smiled and put his hand out to help the rabbit to his feet. "Follow me," he said. The rabbit nodded and started walking along the sidelines. The magician had been expecting this reaction, but he was still surprised when the rabbit acted like he had always known he would. The rabbit seemed to enjoy playing second fiddle, and the magician didn't even have to use his powers to make the rabbit happy. He just watched as the rabbit walked off into the sunset, the rabbit happy to have finally been given a chance to really shine.	The magician pulls out a rabbit from a hat, and the rabbit is sick of always playing second fiddle. The rabbit scoffs and then promptly pulls out a magician from a hat, using him to pull out another rabbit from the hat. The rabbit continues to do this, pulling out more and more magicians from the hat, each one more aggravated than the last. The last magician to be pulled out from the hat is the magician who had originally pulled out the rabbit. He is furious and accuses the rabbit of cheating. The rabbit laughs and says, "You should have known I was going to pull out a magician from the hat. I'm the best rabbit in the business."	The magician and the rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is getting tired of being the one who is always pulled out of the hat. He's seen the way that the audience always gasps and cheers when the magician pulls him out, and he's sick of being second fiddle. So, the next time the magician goes to pull him out of the hat, the rabbit bites him. The audience gasps in shock as the magician yelps in pain, and the rabbit makes his escape. He knows that he won't be able to go back to the magician now that he's bitten him, but he doesn't care. He's finally free, and he's going to make the most of it.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was!
4	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The Surrogates byheon was a big event. It was the first time that all of the important people in the world met to discuss policy and things that concern us. Even more importantly, it was the first time that all the important people in the world met to discuss the possibilities of where we are headed. The Surrogates had experts from many different fields. They talked about the future of life and what we can expect in the future. They also talked about the future of the world. The Surrogates were unclear on one thing. What was going to happen to the world's people when theAuditor was deactivated? There was discussion about how the world should be saved. But no one really knew what the future would be. The Auditor was only deactivated because everyone in the world was hoping she would be a help. The people in thetim then went to different places to try and answer this question. But no one could really give a definite answer. After a while, the people in thetim started to lose hope. They were still trying to answer the question, but it was clear that the Auditor was nothing more than a gift from above. The people in thetim started to smell a bit different. They didn't know what it was and they didn't know what to do about it. They all started to look different. The people in thetim started to smell different as well. But they all continued to visit the Surrogates. The Surrogates were there to provide support. But the people in thetim didn't want to see the experts anymore. They just wanted to see the different colors and smells. The Surrogates didn't like that. They didn't like that the people in thetim were different now. They didn't like that they were only providing support. The Surrogates were only providing support. The people in thetim wanted to see the different colors and smells. They wanted to see the people in thetim that they knew. The people in thetim wanted to see the different colors and smells. They wanted to see the people in thetim that they knew. But the Surrogates didn't want to see the people in thetim anymore. They didn't like that they were only providing support. The Surrogates didn't like that. They didn't like that the people in thetim were different now. They didn't like that they were only providing support. The Surrogates were only providing support. The people in thetim wanted to see the different colors and smells. They wanted to see the people in thetim that they knew. The people in thetim wanted to see the different colors and smells. They wanted to see the people in thetime they knew. But the Surrogates didn't want to see the people in thetim anymore. They didn't like that they were only providing support. The Surrogates were only providing support. The people in thetime they knew were providing support. The people in thetim were only looking for support. But the Surrogates didn't want to see the people in thetim anymore. They didn't like that they were only providing support.	I step into the Auditor's office, eager to start my audit. I enter the room, and feel a sense of excitement. I walk up to the Auditor and Present my Certificate of Proof of Intelligence. "ladies and gentlemen, I am an Auditor and I have been implanted with a birth control device during my puberty. I am stable and intelligent enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an Auditor. I would like to activate my birth control device, please."	It was a dark and stormy night. A young woman, barely out of her teens, was walking the streets of her city, looking for a place to sleep. She was tired, and cold, and had been walking for hours. She had been trying to find a place to stay the night for weeks, but no one would rent to her because she was considered unintelligent and unstable. She was tired of being laughed at and called names. She was tired of being told she was nothing. Suddenly, she heard a voice in her ear. "There you are, girl. I've been looking for you." It was an old woman. She looked tired, too. " Come with me, I have a place for you." The young woman followed the old woman to a decrepit building. "This is where I live. My name is Mrs. K. and I'm an Auditor. I know you're intelligent and stable, so I've implanted a birth control device in you during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you're ready to raise a well-adjusted human being. You're the new Auditor." The young woman was filled with relief. She couldn't believe she had finally found a place to stay the night. She thanked Mrs. K. and went to bed. The next day, she went to the Auditors office to deactivate her birth control device. She was excited to become a responsible adult and start her own family.	It's been 20 years since the world implemented the birth control device. As an Auditor, it's my job to determine who is intelligent and stable enough to have their device deactivated and reproduce. In that time, we've seen a dramatic decrease in the number of dumb people in the world. But there are still a few who slip through the cracks. I remember one case in particular. A young woman came to me, desperate to have her device deactivated. She claimed to be in love and wanted to start a family. I interviewed her and administered a series of tests. She did well, but there was something off about her. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. I ultimately decided to deny her request. It was a hard decision, but I couldn't risk her having a child that wasn't given the best chance at a successful life. I often wonder what became of her. I hope she found happiness, even if it wasn't in the way she wanted.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch.
5	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The object of her attention had been looking for a while now, trying to get a look at it when she finally came across it. She gasped when she saw the figure walking in her house. She had been hiding for a while, she knew that the person in red was following them. The person in red was also aware of the surprise, and smiled when the girl realized what was happening.	The first time that I noticed the something living in my home was while I was a guest at my aunt's house. I had just finished dinner and was relaxing in the family room when I heard a loud, metallic clanging coming from up the stairs. I quickly grabbed my wine and went up to investigate. I found a large, metallic box hidden underneath a staircase. I didn't know what to make of it, but I knew that I had to tell someone. I went to tell my aunt and she was surprised to see me there. She asked me what I was looking for and I told her that I found a box hidden under the stairs. She must have seen the look of horror on my face because she said, "It's just a box, nothing to worry about." I was hesitant to believe her, but I went upstairs andopened the box. Inside was a weird, shiny object. I couldn't figure out what it was, but I knew that I had to tell someone. I went to tell my aunt, but she was already gone. I wasn't sure what to do next. I wanted to tell the police, but I was too embarrassed. I didn't want to be the one who caused the thing to live. I vented my frustrations to my aunt and she said that it wasn't her problem. I was relieved, but I couldn't help but to feel worried about the thing. I wasn't sure what to do.	I was walking around my house, minding my own business, when I felt something strange. I couldn't see it, but I knew there was something there, watching me. I was determined to find out what it was, so I started to search for it. I found a corner, where the light couldn't reach, and I started to probe around with my hands. I felt something slimy and cold, and I knew I had found my prey. I wrapped my arms around it, squeezing tightly until it squirmed in pain. I reveled in its fear as I proclaimed victory over my invisible foe.	You can feel it watching you, even when you can't see it. You don't know what it is, but you know it's there. lurking in the shadows, always just out of sight. You're not sure how long it's been living with you, but you've decided to try to expose it. You don't want to let it know that you're aware of its presence, so you're careful not to let it see you watching. Slowly, you start to catch glimpses of it. A shadow here, a movement there. But you can never get a good look at it. It's always just out of reach. You start to feel like you're being watched all the time, and you can't shake the feeling that it's waiting for the perfect moment to strike. You don't know what to do, but you can't keep living like this. You have to find out what this thing is, and why it's in your home. You're not sure what to expect, but you're ready to face whatever this thing is. You'll find a way to expose it, and whatever it is, you'll be ready for it.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is in his most populardamnators orators and he is in his most popular	Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin were at a conference in Hungary when they received the ad. They quickly arranged to fly to Vienna to take part in the clinical trials. The others were a bit more hesitant, but Josip Broz Tito finally agreed to go. Adolf Hitler was eager to win the trust of the scientists. He was confident that he could help them with their research. Joseph Stalin was a bit more hesitant, but he knew that Hitler had a lot of power. The trials were rigorous, but finally the test results were promising. The scientists awarded Hitler and Stalin the role of lead doctors. They were both able to help improve the research. After the trials, Adolf Hitler became the leader of Germany. Joseph Stalin became the leader of the Soviet Union. Josip Broz Tito became the leader of Yugoslavia.	Freud was excited to receive responses to his clinical trial ad. He was particularly interested in Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. The four men seemed to be the perfect fit for the trial. Freud met with the four men and explained the trial. He told them that he was looking for people who weresymptomatic of a particular problem. The men agreed to participate, and Freud was thrilled. The trial began, and each man was required to complete various tests. Freud was pleased with the results, and he was sure that the trial would be successful. However, there was one man who wasn't satisfied. Adolf Hitler was angry that he wasn't being given the chance to be the leader of Germany. He was determined to win the trial, and he was willing to do whatever it took. Adolf Hitler began to plot against the other three men, and he was soon in control. The trial was a disaster, and all four men were arrested. They were all sentenced to death, and they all died in prison. Freud was sad that he hadn't been able to help them, but at least they had been given a chance to try his research.	Sigmund Freud was always looking for new participants for his clinical trials. He was always hoping to find people who were willing to try out his latest research. In 1913, he decided to put an ad in a newspaper. He was hoping to find people who were interested in his work. The only people who responded to his ad were Adolf Hitler (24), Joseph Stalin (35), Leon Trotsky (34), and Josip Broz Tito (21). Freud was surprised that these four people were the only ones who responded. He was even more surprised when he found out who they were. Freud decided to meet with each of them individually. He was curious to see what they were like. He quickly realized that they were all very intelligent and ambitious. He was also struck by how different they were from each other. Freud soon realized that he had stumbled upon something amazing. He had found four people who would go on to change the world.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do.
2	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	Auditors are individuals who are sent to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. You are the only one who knows this, and you must keep your secret until the day you are sure you can handle yourself.	The Auditor's office was situated in the back of a large, old warehouse. It was small, and uncomfortable, but it was home to the Audit's department. Most people in the office thought the Auditor was a know-it-all. But the Auditor fixed that. The Auditor was always busy, but he never hesitated to stop by the office to see how the other departments were doing. He was never rude, or unapproachable. One day, the Auditor left the office to take a break. He didn't come back for a while. Some people in the office started to worry. Had the Auditor gone back to the warehouse to surprise them? They decided to look for the Auditor in the office. They found him sitting at the back of the warehouse, with a book in his hands. "Auditor," called one of the people in the office. "Weolis thought you'd gone off to take a break." The auditor didn't answer. "Auditor," called another person. "Weolis thinks you might have gone trick or Treat." The auditor didn't answer again. "Auditor," called a third person. "Weolis is getting worried. We thought you might have gone missing." The auditor didn't answer again. The people in the office started to panic. They had no idea what to do. " Auditor," called a fourth person. "Weolis is starting to think you might have been killed." The people in the office started to scream. They didn't know what to do. They didn't know what had happened to the Auditor. The audit team was called to the warehouse. They found the Auditor dead, with a birth control device implanted in his neck.	Gabriel had always been an intelligent person, but he couldn't help but feel a little bit down about the fact that he was one of the few people in the world who were ‘dumb’ enough to not be implanted with a birth control device. He knew that it was for the best, but it still didn't make the idea of it any less icky. One day, Gabriel was sitting in his apartment scrolling through his social media accounts when he saw a post that caught his attention. It was an ad for a job as an Auditor, and it sounded like it would be a great opportunity. He decided to apply, and a few weeks later he was called in for an interview. The Auditor told Gabriel that the birth control implant was only deactivated once they were sure he was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. He said that he was willing to take on the challenge, and so Gabriel wasExcited to start his new job.	You're an auditor for the government's birth control program. It's your job to make sure that only the dumbest people in the world are allowed to reproduce. To do this, you must interview each potential parent and determine if they are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. If they are not, then you must deactivate their birth control device. This can be a difficult and controversial job, but you believe that it's necessary in order to create a better world.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative.
3	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that you meet is not what you expected. You meet people every day who have just shared with others they are liars. The more you think about it, the more likely you are to believe them. They are what you don't meet people. That is until you meet another person and they are the person you meet every day. You had no idea what was happening. You met this person every day and they was what they were supposed to be. The person you meet is someone that is different. They are not what you expected. You start to believe what you are being shown. The person you meet is different than you thought. You are not sure what to make of him. He seems like a perfect person, but you don't expect them to be a liar. You are shocked when he tells you the truth. You are What You Don't Meet People	You meet this person on a dark, moonless night. They are staggering around, their eyes wide and dark. You can tell that they have been through a lot. "What happened?" you ask them. "I was betrayed," they say. "Someone killed my family. The whole city is in chaos as a result." You arehengst at the news. Your family was killed? How could that have happened? You know they were safe, you know they weren't in danger. "How could anyone do this to you?" you ask. "I don't know," the person replies. "But I have to find out. I have to find the person who did this to me." They stumble towards you, and you help them down. "Thank you," they say. "I don't know what else to say." You help them into an alleyway and into a dark, secluded room. "Are you going to help me find the person who did this to me?" the person asks. "Of course," you say. "I will help you find the person who did this to you."	I had never seen anything like him. He had the biggest scar I had ever seen. It was so big, it was practically covering his whole body. It was so massive, it looked like it had been carved out of his flesh. It was soo scary, I couldn't believe I was seeing it. As I looked closer, I realized that the scar wasn't just one big patch of skin. It was embedded in his flesh, so deeply that you could barely see it. It must have been really painful to have that much scarring, but he never showed any other signs of pain. He just seemed so calm and content. I couldn't stop looking at the scar. It fascinated me. I wanted to know more about it, why it was so big. I wanted to ask him about it, but I was scared. I was scared of his reaction. I was scared of how he would react to me. But even more than that, I was scared of how the scar would affect my own honesty. If I started lying, would the scar become bigger? Would it become impossible for me to ever be truthful again? I didn't know what to do. I was scared of what the future might hold, but I knew I had to visit him. I had to see the scar for myself. As I got closer to him, I could see the scars had sunken into his flesh. They were barely visible now, but I could still see the outline of the wound. It was still so raw, so painful. But even more than that, I could see the peace and tranquility that had settled over him. The scar was his prison, but it was also his secret. It was his darkest secret, but it was also his light. And that's how I found out his secret. The biggest, darkest secret of all.	She stands before me, tall and proud with a single, large scar adorning her chest. It is the deepest and largest scar I have ever seen. Her eyes meet mine, and in that moment, I know that she is the one. She tells me her story. She was born in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. She has lived her life truthfully, despite the pain that it has caused her. Her one scar is a result of the biggest lie she ever told. But she doesn't regret it. Because that lie saved my life.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar.
4	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	Molecular 15-year-old magician The Bunny and I are on stage, Thou art sick of playing second fiddle. The Bunny has been trying to get The Witch of the Lute to realize that she's a magician, but she's too proud. She's always togged up and on stage, but today, she's sick of being under The Witch's control. She tries to get The Witch to realize that she's a magician, but she's too proud. She's always togged up and on stage, but today, she's sick of being under The Witch's control. She tries to get The Witch to notice her as a magician, but she's too proud.	The magician pulled out the rabbit from the hat and put it in front of him. The rabbit was sick of being the second fiddle. It wanted to do its own thing. The magician didn't seem to hear the rabbit, so the rabbit continued to sit there. The magician looked at the rabbit and it seemed as if it was giving up. The rabbit couldn't take it anymore. It started to run away and the magician saw it go. He quickly put the rabbit back in the hat and put it back on stage. The rabbit was very happy. It had finally won some attention.	The magician had been performing for years and years, always pulling out a rabbit from the hat. The rabbit was getting a bit tired of always playing second fiddle, so one day, the rabbit said to the magician, "I don't know how much longer I can keep up with this. Can we switch positions?" The magician was surprised at first, but then he thought about it and agreed. From then on, the rabbit was the magician's main rabbit and the magician was the rabbit's main magician. Everyone in the audience was shocked, but they all realized that this was the best thing for both rabbits.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The magician pulls out a hat and the rabbit pops out, looking very disgruntled. The audience erupts into applause and the rabbit glares at the magician. The magician seems oblivious to the rabbit's anger and simply smiles and takes a bow. The rabbit is had enough. It's been stuck in that hat for years, being pulled out and put back in over and over again. It's time to take matters into its own paws. The next time the magician goes to pull the rabbit out of the hat, it doesn't budge. The magician looks perplexed and tries again, but the rabbit is firmly stuck. The audience starts to get restless, wondering what's going on. The rabbit takes this opportunity to make a break for it. It hops off the stage and into the audience, where it is met with cheers and applause. The magician is left on stage, looking baffled and alone. The rabbit is finally free and it knows it will never go back into that hat again. It has a new lease on life and is determined to make the most of it.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
5	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The house was small, but it was not simple. The homeowner had recently- Width to the top of the door. She had been trying to remember when she had last seen slept at her old house. She looked at the clock, and noticed that the time had traveled 1am. She tried to remember what the last message had been sent through the door's Venetian blinds. A habit? A punishment? She didn't know. She asked her husband what he thought. He put his hand on her arm, telling her to try and remember. The history of the house? She didn't know. The husband had been a member of a secret society of house-holders, people who used their power to amass wealth. He had known what was happening out front, and tried to keep the family desertions underOff. The homeowner had been more interested in theizards in the bushes around the house, Could they please avoid me? she thought as she walked into the room.	One day, I noticed an invisible thing moving around in my home. I didn't want to let it know I was aware of it, so I tried to hide it. But it kept moving and changing. It became harder and harder to keep it hidden, until eventually it had become a part of my home.	I had always suspected there was something strange living in my home, but I never was able to prove it. I would see shadowy figures in the corners or behind furniture, but I never knew for sure if it was something real or just my imagination. One day, I decided to take a closer look at the thing I had been seeing. I slowly made my way around the room, watching as the figure disappeared into the shadows. As I got closer, I could make out its shape - it was a little girl, standing just a few feet away from me. I cried out in terror and ran away, never looking back. I had finally found proof that something was living in my home, and I had let it scare me into leaving. The thing was probably just some little girl, but it made me Paranoid that whole day.	I always felt like I was being watched in my house. I would see things move out of the corner of my eye, but when I turned to look, there was never anything there. I knew I wasn't crazy, so I started to set up cameras throughout my house to try and catch whatever it was that was living with me. I was convinced that I would finally get evidence of the invisible thing living in my house when I saw the footage of one of the cameras. It was a dark, shadowy figure that seemed to be lurking in the background of my living room. I was terrified, but I also knew that I had to find out what it was. I started to leave out food for the thing, and one day when I came home, I found it devouring a steak that I had left out. I was shocked that it was real, but I also felt a sense of relief that I wasn't alone in my house anymore. We've been living together for a year now, and I've grown to love the invisible thing that shares my home with me. I still don't know what it is, but I'm grateful for its presence nonetheless.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	I was born with a filter in place of a vaccine. My filter used to work well, but then I grew up and started having children. My children were all born large and healthy, but I was still an Auditor. I couldn't let them down.	Auditor 1: (To himself) I'm going to have to be careful with my birth control device. I don't want to end up with a stupid kid.	I was born into a world where I was guaranteed to be a smart, successful person. But, as I grew older and learned about the world, I realized that for the sake of my own sanity, I needed to get a birth control implant when I was in my puberty. The implant would prevent the dumber people from reproducing, and would only deactivate once I was proven to be an intelligent and stable individual. I was happy to take this step to ensure that my genes would be passed down in a way that would be beneficial to society as a whole.	You sit in a sterile room, looking at the person in front of you. They fidget under your gaze, clearly uncomfortable. But you don't care. You have a job to do. This person is here to prove that they are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. It's your job to determine whether or not they are worthy. You ask them a series of questions, testing their knowledge and their ability to think critically. You watch their body language and their expressions, looking for any signs of instability. After a long period of questioning, you finally make your decision. This person is not fit to raise a child. You activate their birth control device, ensuring that they will not be able to reproduce. It's a difficult job, but someone has to do it. In a world where only the dumbest people are allowed to reproduce, it's up to you to make sure that the next generation is as intelligent and stable as possible.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge.
2	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The something invisible was always there, waiting to take over as the host of your mind. It disputed the control you had over your life, and䝿	One day, I found an invisible being in my home. I tried to expose it, but it seemed to be far too happy to be harmed. It seemed to be content simply living in the shadows. I couldn't shake the feeling that it was watching me from the corner of my eye.	I never noticed it until one day, when I farted and it startled me. There was a slight pressure on my chest, like something was trying to squeeze out of my lungs. I dismissed it as Tabby getting into my lungs again, but the feeling never went away. I began to worry, so I went to the doctor. He ran some tests and said that I had an air embolism, or a blockage in my air flow. The doctor said it was most likely caused by my medication, but I could never be sure. Ever since that day, I've been paranoid. I can't walk through my house without checking every nook and cranny for whatever is following me. I've even started sleeping with a gun under my bed, just in case. But even though I'm always on the lookout, I still can't shake the feeling that something is watching me.	I can sense that something invisible is living in my home. I don't know what it is, but I can feel its presence. I try to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. I set up a camera in my living room and leave it running overnight. In the morning, I review the footage and see something moving around in the room. It's hard to make out what it is, but it's definitely there. I try to catch it on camera again, but it seems to be avoiding the camera. I'm not sure what to do, but I'm determined to find out what this invisible thing is.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense.
3	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross painted a copy of each of his locations being Chinese territory, letting street kids give him painting lessons, or working as a terra cotta man. Each painting has a unique atmosphere and is crusty Cafeteria- fresh from the oven, Bob'smenu looked and felt different each time he took a bite out of his pie. Even though all of his places looked the same, the feel of them all was personalityly unique. Bob Ross had his own unique feel to his Murder Pages, each scene having a unique look and feeling. Each of Bob's places had a unique scent and taste, each one with its own dialect and Roux office. The cook, victim, and medical Examiner shared the same kitchen, but with differentrer partitions and caskets. The medical examiner's office had the traditional songs and Woo-woo-woo power gaming was in the other room, the running tendency being to place bodies where people had already been killed. The arterial bloodstains on the walls, floors, and ceiling were all unique, and lookedApply Harassment bond when viewed together.	Bob Ross started painting landscapes in the early 1940s. He would take them to different places in the country and mix different landscapes together to get the feel he wanted. His landscapes would always features different murder scenes, each with its own unique set of visuals. One of his most famous landscapes is "The Murder of Roger Ackroyd." It's a serene landscape that features a tranquil forest, with Ackroyd's body scattered around the landscape. The scene is chilling, and it has become one of Ross' most popular paintings. Many people ask how he came up with the idea for the painting. He told them that he decided to do it after a series of murders in which wealthy people were killed. He thought it would be chilling to paint a landscape that features a prominent murder scene.	In the early 1970s, Bob Ross spent his summers painting landscapes of the Eastern US. It was a slow time for the FBI, so Bob was an easy target. Each painting was a real place, with peasants working in the fields, a river winding through the forest, and a serene, snow-capped mountain in the background. Each painting was a snapshot of Bob's many murders.	Bob Ross was a talented painter with a dark secret. For years, he had been using his paintings as a way to cover up his many murders. He would choose secluded locations that would be the perfect place to dispose of a body, and then he would paint them in his distinctive style. The authorities had never been able to connect the dots, but Bob Ross was finally caught when one of his paintings was spotted at a crime scene. The FBI knew they had their man, and they soon uncovered the horrifying truth about his horrific crimes.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas.
4	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is on his way togemont university to finalize some of his latest research. When he arrives, he is met with a room full of strangers, all of whom want to participate in the trials. Sigmund is overjoyed, as he feels he has finally found the people who will understand him. However, he soon realizes that some of the participants are landmark figures in history, such as Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin. Broz Tito is a convert to Christianity, and Hitler is interested in studying Denmark's jute industry. Sigmund is forced to tell his story to a group of tv candidates who are interested in watching him discuss his research.	Adolf Hitler was the only one who responded to Sigmund Freud's ad. He was at the time the leader of Nazi Germany. Joseph Stalin was the leader of Soviet Russia. Leon Trotsky was the leader of the 1929 communist Russian revolution. Josip Broz Tito was the leader of Yugoslavia. All of these people were very different from one another. They had different goals and different backgrounds. But together, they all had one thing in common: They were all in love with Adolf Hitler.	Freud was more than a little interested in the prospect of testing his latest research on human subjects. He had placed an ad in a local newspaper, hoping to find participants for his trials. Surprisingly, all of the responses he received were from young, ambitious men. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito all responded. Freud was curious to see how these men would react to each other. He arranged a test session in Vienna, during which the five men would each share their ideas and ideas about the role of the state. The meeting was intense, and it was soon clear that the five men had different opinions about everything. However, they all seemed to respect and understand each other. This meeting would prove to be a crucial step in the development of the Nazi party, and the Stalinist Soviet Union. Thanks to Freud, these dangerous men were able to come together and discuss their ideas in a constructive way.	Sigmund Freud was desperate for participants for his latest clinical trial. He had high hopes for his research, but so far no one had been willing to take part. In a last ditch effort, he placed an ad in the local newspaper. To his surprise, four people responded: Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were young, in their twenties and thirties. Freud was intrigued by their eagerness to take part in his trial and agreed to meet with them. During their sessions, Freud quickly realized that all four men were suffering from severe mental illness. Hitler was fixated on ideas of racial purity and had a deep hatred for Jews. Stalin was paranoid and delusional, convinced that everyone was out to get him. Trotsky was consumed by rage and had a history of violence. And Tito was consumed by dark thoughts and had a history of self-harm. Despite their mental illnesses, Freud was impressed by their intelligence and saw potential in all four men. He believed that with treatment, they could all lead normal, productive lives. Sadly, history would prove Freud wrong. All four men would go on to become some of the most brutal dictators the world has ever seen.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word.
5	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in low reserve, and hand-to-hand combat DR is always aGiven. However, the pests are a challenge. They're pesky and resourceful, and they want their goods. The GM might want to consider giving them Leyjackbearers as reward for: -Championing the good Sir Orisus's work -Helping theFFD the Stonington's escape The adventurers are a challenges. They're young and some are Canting Credest, but they're pot-stirring brigands. They's want their just rewards. So, the GM might consider giving them Jennerbearers as reward for: -Championing the good Sir Orisus's work -Helping the FFD's escape	There was once a magic-sapping gem that dwelt in a special part of the kingdom. Though it was seized by a young queen, her subjects found an escape to purchase the gem from the king for their own use. The adventurers who found the gem decided to use it as a bargaining chip in their own negotiations with the Qarl of the kingdom. The first time they met the Qarl, the adventurers were able to sell him the gem for a high price. After that, the Qarl became a regular customer at your shop. He always brought new and exciting items for sale, and always stayed one step ahead of the adventurers' bargaining skills.	It was a typical day at the pawn shop. The adventurers came in, looking for a deal on the items they had acquired. They haggled with the shop owner, trying to get the best deal they could. The shop owner was knowledgeable about the items, and was able to get the adventurers the best price they could. The adventurers left with smiles on their faces, happy with the deal they had made.	You're the proprietor of an RPG pawn shop. You buy and sell loot that adventurers bring in, haggling over prices and trying to get the best deals. It's a tough business, but you're good at it. You've been in business for a few years now, and you've seen all sorts of loot come through your shop. Everything from magic weapons and armor to rare magical ingredients and precious gemstones. You've even had a few dragons come through, looking to sell their hoard. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you're always ready to haggle. It's all part of the game, and you wouldn't have it any other way.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The dog was always one of theiances in the home of the family. They loved it and tried to keep it happy and free from lettches and battles. But one day, the dog chose to start having pack Attacks. The family was able to Jage by that soon after and the dog was left outside on the back porch with the dog house. The family never took the dog in, thinking the city neurons to blame. And then one day, the family go outside and saw the dog house on the other side of the park. Theycommunications with the dog but it was too far away for them to hear. The family took the dog in and made him comfortable. The dog then began to backstab the family members and they had to go outside to protect themselves. The family was able to protect the dog and they loved him for it.	One day, I discovered an unidentified, invisible being in my home. It was; slowly, cautiously, but surely becoming more and more visible as time went on. It seemed to be a spirit of some sort, and I was determined to expose it to the world, but I couldn't quite get my head around it. Eventually, I decided to let it know that I was aware of it, and it slowly faded away.	I was in the kitchenette, making dinner, when I heard something moving around in the living room. I stepped out to see a small, blurry figure dart under the coffee table. I followed it, but it disappeared into the shadows. I tried to make out its shape, but it was just a blur. It creeped me out, so I went back into the kitchen to finish dinner. I was paranoid the whole time, wondering if the thing was following me. I finished dinner and went to bed, but I couldn't get the image of the blurry figure out of my head. The next day, I tried to take a picture of the coffee table, but the thing was too fast. I wasn't sure if I'd ever see the blur again.	I have always felt like I was being watched in my home. I would see things move out of the corner of my eye, but when I turned to look, there was nothing there. I knew I wasn't imagining things, so I started to set up little traps to try and expose whatever it was that was living with me. I would leave food out in the open, and it would always be gone in the morning. I started to leave little notes around the house, and they would always be moved. It was like this invisible thing was playing games with me. One day, I decided to confront it. I left a note that said, "I know you're here. Let's talk." The next day, the note was gone. But in its place was a note that said, "I'm not ready yet." It was like this invisible thing was trying to communicate with me. I wasn't sure what to do, but I knew I needed to be patient. After a few more days of back-and-forth notes, I finally got the courage to say, "I'm not scared of you. You can come out." Then, from the shadows, a figure slowly emerged. It was a little girl, no more than 10 years old. She looked scared and lost. I asked her what her name was, and she said she didn't remember. I told her she was safe now, and she could stay with me. That was how I met my invisible housemate. She'd been living with me all this time, and I never even knew it. I'm not sure how she got there or why she was invisible, but I was just glad she was finally safe.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before.
2	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants in a trial of his latest research. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito.	Adolf Hitler was twelve years old when he first saw Sigmund Freud. The man was famous and Powerful, but he also seemed strange. Hitler was fascinated by him, and he decided to participate in a clinical trial of Freud's new research. Joseph Stalin was even more famous than Adolf Hitler. He was the leader of the Soviet Union, and he was also famous for his death sentences against gays and others who didn't agree with his government. He was also famous for his work on psychiatry. Leon Trotsky was a Communist who had been inprison for years. He was also famous for his work on psychiatry. He had a theory that mental illness was caused by capitalism. Josip Broz Tito was a socialist who had been inprison for years. He had also been famous for his work on psychiatry. He had a theory that mental illness was caused by the sow- market economy.	Freud was skeptical when he first saw Adolf Hitler's application. He was young, barely out of school, and had no experience in the world. But he was impressed by Hitler's drive, ambition, and determination. Freud agreed to conduct the first trial with Hitler. The results were conclusive – the young man was perfectly suited for the clinical trials. Stalin and Trotsky were also successful trials candidates, but Freud had concerns about their character. He was worried that Stalin might be too ruthless, and Trotsky might be too idealistic. But ultimately, Freud was convinced that both men were the perfect candidates for the future of the Soviet Union. Tito was the last trial participant to beselected. But Freud was hesitant to bring him on board. He was worried that Tito might be too undisciplined and not capable of carrying out the rigorous trials. But after examining Tito more closely, Freud was convinced that the young man was the perfect choice. The trials proved to be a success, and the Soviet Union was born.	It was 1913, and Sigmund Freud was in Vienna, Austria, conducting clinical trials for his latest research. He needed participants, so he placed an ad in the local newspaper. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was surprised that such well-known figures would be interested in his research, but he welcomed them all the same. He conducted his trials with them, and his research was a success. However, he didn't realize at the time that he had just unwittingly created some of the most dangerous men in history.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do.
3	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was first implanted into the wrong person and the wrong time of course. A young mother simply was not as smart as she should have been and soon after, the birth of her child would be prevent as well. Nevertheless, she was an Auditor and would be able to make good on her sentence and help prevent times like this from happening in the first place. As an Auditor, she was able to take care of her children and prevent them from reproduced. She was able to do this because she was smart and very brave.	Since the birth of the world, people have been implanted with birth control devices to prevent them from reproducing. Auditors have been sent to assess each person's ability to raise a well-adjusted human being. This has always been an important role for the Auditors, because it ensures that the world is safe for everyone. But as time went on, it became harder and harder for the Auditors to find intelligent people to assess. So, they devised a plan: everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty, so that the dumbest people in the world can't reproduce. The plan worked for a while, but eventually the dumbest people in the world outnumber the Auditors. So, the Auditors decided to take their birth control device off of everyone. But, as they did so, they realized that they had made a mistake. The Dumbest People in the World were still reproducing, and the world was becoming more dangerous every day. So, the Auditors decided to return their birth control device to everyone. But, as they did so, they realized that they had made a even bigger mistake. The Dumbest People in the World were still reproducing, and the world was becoming even more dangerous every day. So, the Auditors decided to disband their organization. But, as they did so, they realized that they had made a biggest mistake. They didn't realized that the Dumbest People in the World were still reproducing, and the world was becoming even more dangerous every day. So, the Auditors decided to stay and fight against the Dumbest People in the World. But, as they did so, they realized that they had made a biggest mistake.	I was born with a birth control device implanted in my body. It was a necessity, as the dumbest people in the world were determined to reproduce and create a generation of idiots. I was smart enough to know that I could not raise a well-adjusted human being if I were one of those idiots myself. So, as an Auditor, I was tasked with deactivating the device when it was determined I was intelligent and stable enough to provide a good parent. It's been a long and tedious process, but I'm finally relieved that I won't have to worry about a stupid generation of humans. I can finally focus on my career as an Auditor and ensuring that the smartest people in the world reproduce.	You're an Auditor, which means that you are responsible for ensuring that only the dumbest people in the world reproduce. To do this, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. The device can only be deactivated once it's been determined that you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. You often have to make difficult decisions, but you know that it's for the best. After all, you don't want the world to be populated by idiots. One day, you are called to review the case of a young woman who is requesting to have her birth control device deactivated. She is clearly intelligent and stable, but you know that she comes from a family of idiots. You have to make a decision. Do you deactivate her birth control device and allow her to reproduce, or do you keep it activated, knowing that her offspring will likely be idiots as well?	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes.
4	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop's owner is a bit Customs and regulate his trade. But, they do not like to be seen asestweened by the ignore-able. They are also known to be accessible to US players. So, heetsy villagers each do their thing, and the players take their place. The game is awarded to the player who signals the most stars.	The first time I saw a player come into my pawn shop, I didn't know what to make of him. He was Elder Scrolls-y specters, all in different shades of blue and black, perched atop their laptops and crates. They were all Vendor Dromund Kaas, busy selling gear to adventurers who were ready to adventuring life had ended. "What can I get you?" I asked the player, who looked like he couldn't decide whether to buy a piece of equipment or just take off. "I need a bow, and I'm looking for a quiver," the player said, after matter-of-factly looking around the store. "I've got a few things I can try to get you a bow," I said, pulled out a bow I had for sale and showed it to the player. He took it, looked at it for a few seconds, then put it back in his pocket. "No, thanks," he said. "I just need a bow, not a quiver." "I'm sorry," I said. "I don't know what you're looking for. Maybe someone else can help you." The player sighed, looked around the store one last time, and then left. I wasn't sure what he was looking for, but I knew he wasn't going to find it here.	I run an RPG pawn shop, and I love it. I love haggling with the adventurers who try to sell their loot. I always manage to get a good deal for them, and they always seem happy when they leave my shop. I've been doing this for years, and I know how to get the best prices for my customers. I always make sure to haggle in a polite and professional manner, and I never give them a hard time. I know that they appreciate it, and it's always fun to deal with them.	You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You haggle with them, trying to get the best price for the items, and sometimes you even buy items outright. You've been in business for years, and you've seen all sorts of adventurers come and go. Some are successful, and some are not, but all of them have interesting stories to tell. One day, a young woman comes into your shop, trying to sell a sword she's acquired. You haggle with her, and eventually agree on a price. As she's about to leave, she tells you her story. She's been adventuring for a while, and has seen some amazing things. She's also been in some dangerous situations, but she's always managed to get out alive. She says she's selling the sword because she's retiring from adventuring. She's going to settle down, and she wants to use the money from the sale to start her new life. You wish her well, and watch her leave, sword in hand. You know that she'll be back, because all adventurers eventually come back to the life they love.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday.
5	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross returned to his home town of Pigeon Forge, WV after years of vacationing in his own right. He was pleased with his progress - his ' hometown paintings ' were of particular interest to artiggifendant and Senator Timilty. Subject: Pigeon Forge	Bob Ross was a true artist. He loved to create beautiful paintings of landscapes that sometimes seemed to take place in different places. But one day, something went wrong. Some of Bob Ross' paintings suddenly became true murders. These paintings depicted locations that Ross had killed, such as a murdered relative or a victim from aibalism. Some of the murders even had the victim's clothes still on, making it even harder to identify them. The police were baffled. However, they soon found a connection between the paintings and Ross. He had killed many of his victims in the same areas where his paintings were located. Now the police were SOL at finding the solve the murders.	Bob Ross was a happy man. He loved painting landscapes and spending time in the woods, but he also had a dark side. Bob killed many people while painting their landscapes, leaving them in the forests and fields he painted. He would often whisk the unsuspecting people away to his studio, where he would paint them until they died. The police eventually caught up to Bob and brought him to justice. He was sentenced to life in prison, where he will remain until the day he dies.	Bob Ross was always a bit of an odd bird. He was always painting happy little landscapes, but something about him just seemed off. Little did anyone know that each of those landscapes was actually a real place - the different locations of his countless murders. For years, Bob Ross roamed the country, killing anyone who crossed his path. He was a master of hiding his tracks, and no one ever suspected him. But eventually, the law caught up with him. He was caught red-handed in the act of disposing of a body, and finally the truth came out. Now, Bob Ross is serving a life sentence in prison. And each of his paintings serves as a reminder of the innocent lives he took.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The sun glared Svipan as she walked through theilyn. It was so hard to look away from, the familiar face of her former beauty partner still visible in her right eye. She complaining to herself that she should have been more careful with 320, but that stills nothing by itself. She turned the last corner and there Svipan saw the surprise on her face as she saw the sun. "What the devil are you doing here?" Svipan asked, her voice shaking as she led the young woman to the Usually donkeys reached for the air, their senses hypocrisy. "I wanted to see if you would come to the wedding tomorrow," Svipan said, her voice shaking as she led the young woman to the wedding tomorrow. "It's ready, and I thought you would want to be a part of it." The surprise made the young woman believe her, make a promise to her that she knew would be broken only minutes later. "I'll be there," she said, her voice shaking like Svipan's own. That was a long time ago, and things are still taking too long.	A few weeks ago, I woke up to find a strange, incorporeal being at the side of my bed. It seemed to be watching me sleep, and I could never quite shake the feeling that it was surely trying to harm me. I didn't want to let it know that I was aware of it, so I kept my distance. I tried to keep my home as clean and sterile as possible, but the creature keptREFUGESIN my house, lurking in the corners and in the shadows. One night, after a long day of work, I was just about to go to bed when I heard a whisper in my ear. It was a feeble voice, but it was persistent and persistent. "I know you're awake. I'm here to stay." I debated for a moment before deciding to confront the creature. But before I could, I heard it make a sound like an animal in pain. It was pitiful and I wanted to help, but I was afraid. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to help, but I was also afraid. I called for help, but no one came. I started to cry, and the creature said nothing. It just looked at me with sad eyes. Eventually, I gave up and went to bed. I didn't want to face the creature anymore, but I couldn't ignore it either. I had to tell someone. I went to the police department and I reported the creature. They took a look at the creature and they couldn't find any reason to believes it was anything other than a normal house pet. But they did recommend that I keep it confinement in a box until it could be properly addressed.	I've always been a bit uneasy about something living in my home. I've never been able to put my finger on what it is, but I've always had this feeling that there's something else in my home, something invisible. I've tried to expose it by turning on all the lights and looking for anything out of the ordinary, but to no avail. It seems to be able to disappear whenever I'm about to find it. I can't help but feel that this thing is watching me, waiting for the perfect moment to attack. It's been making my home feel tense and uncomfortable, and I can't take it anymore. I'm going to have to get rid of whatever it is, but I'm worried that I'll never be able to find it if I do.	There's something living in my home that I can't see. I don't know what it is, but I can feel its presence. It's like a weight on my chest, always there, watchful. I can't let it know that I'm aware of its presence, so I go about my life as usual, pretending not to notice. I can feel it following me as I move from room to room, always there, just out of sight. I can sense its hunger, its need for attention. But I dare not give it any. I don't know what it is, but I know it's not human. And I don't want to be its next victim.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before.
2	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The adventurers come to the pawn shop to sell some loot they've acquired. The shop is cash only so they are able to sale the gear they've acquired as correct prices. The shop- Owner doesnt have time to argue with them and decides to be sale- is as sale. The adventurers try to leave and be drew in by the sale, but the owner gets out and keep the equipment.	The shop was always busy, but today was especially packed. A few adventurers were selling gear they had acquired in their travels, but the mostpopular seller was the rogue. He had justcome in from a long adventure and was selling everything he could find. The rogue was friendly enough, but he was selling too much. The shopkeeper asked him how much he was selling and the rogue said he was selling all he had. The shopkeeper told him that wasn't good enough and that he had to put a stop to the sales. The rogue argued, but the shopkeeper was firm. He told the rogue that if he didn't stop the sales, he would report him to the police. The rogue reluctantly stopped selling and left the store.	Darius, the pawn shop owner, was dealing with a customer who had just come in. The customer wanted to sell Darius a chest of gold coins that he had acquired from a recent adventure. Darius wasn't the most experienced haggler in the world, so he offered to give the customer a discount on the price of the chest if he could get it down to a lower number. The customer insisted that Darius give him a discount and then gave him a number that Darius was not happy with. The customer seemed really confident that Darius wouldn't be able to get the price down, and Darius wasn't sure if he should take the deal or not. After much thought, Darius decided that he would take the deal and get the chest of coins for a much lower price than he would have been able to if the customer hadn't been so confident. This taught Darius a valuable lesson - if you aren't confident in yourself and your negotiating ability, don't offer a discount to someone who is trying to sell you something.	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you're never afraid to haggle a bit to get them. today, a young woman comes into your shop, trying to sell a magic sword. She's obviously new to the whole process, and you can tell she's a bit nervous. You take a look at the sword and immediately see that it's a rare and powerful weapon. You also know that the young woman is desperate for money, so you decide to take advantage of her situation. You offer her a fraction of what the sword is worth, and she eagerly accepts. She thanked you profusely before leaving, and you can't help but feel a bit guilty about taking advantage of her. Still, you can't help but feel pleased with your new acquisition. It's always a good day when you get a great deal on some rare and powerful loot.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide.
3	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	Disorders are often caused by one's declare. The person has a CR3P, the deeper the lie, the larger the hit, or the most important thing just enough. Each and every lie creates a doctors notes with a huge, biggest scar.	You meet someone that you think is interesting. They have one small scar on their chest that you never noticed before. You're interested in them, and you ask them about it. They tell you that they were mugged a few months ago and that the scar is the size of a quarter. You're shocked. It's weird that someone with such a small scar would have such a big impact on their life. You ask them about it more, and they tell you about all the different things that have happened since the mugging. They tell you about how they've lost friends and family, and how the scar has made them stronger. You go back to their house and tell them that you've found out about their scar and that you're interested in meeting them. They laugh and tell you about all the other scars that punctuate their lives. You can't help but wonder if the scar on their chest is one of those scars.	I first saw him when I was walking to the grocery store. His skin was so white, and it contrasted so sharply with the dark bruises that dotted his face. He was so strange, but I was too afraid to say anything. He followed me the entire way, and when I got to the grocery store, he grabbed me. "You need to listen to me," he said. His voice was soft and gentle, but his eyes were cold. "You're going to tell me everything, or I'll hurt you." I didn't want to, but I was too afraid to disobey him. He took me to a secluded area in the park and started to torture me. He told me to lie, and I couldn't help but make deeper and darker scars on my body with each lie. eventually, the pain became too much. I begged him to stop, but he only laughed. "You're my little liar," he said. "I've made you a monster." And then he killed me.	I was walking down the street when I saw her. She was standing in the middle of the sidewalk, completely still. I couldn't help but stare at her; she had the largest scar I had ever seen. It started at her forehead and trailed down her cheek, all the way to her neck. I walked up to her and asked her what had happened. She told me that she had lied, and that this was the result. She said that she had lied so much in her life that she had lost count of all the scars. But this one, she said, was the biggest and deepest lie she had ever told. I couldn't believe it. I had always thought that lies were harmless, but this showed me just how destructive they could be. I asked her what she had learned from her experience. She said that she had learned to be truthful, and to never take the easy way out. This story has stuck with me ever since. It's a powerful reminder of the consequences of lying, and how the truth is always the best way to go.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you?
4	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician takes a look at the rabbit and sees that he is sick of playing second fiddle. He decides to take him to be his new love, but the rabbit is more interested in getting out of his hat and being able to do what he wants. The magician can't help but be frustrated, as he keeps adding to the list of things the rabbit needs to do in order to be successful.	The magician, a tall, lanky man, had been working hard to perfect his show. He had made a rabbit out of a hat, and spent weeks perfecting its movements and sound. He was almost ready to show it to the audience. But then, just as he was about to Appear on Stage, the rabbit got sick of playing second fiddle. It wanted to be in the lead! The magician didn't know how to react, and the audience was starting to get restless. Finally, he asked the rabbit to come back on Stage. The rabbit wasn't happy, but it went back to the back. The magician started to feel like he was in trouble. But then, just as he was about to Leave the Stage, the rabbit disappeared! The magician guesses that it was just disappearing because it was tired, and he went back on Stage to finish his show.	The rabbit glared at the magician, its tiny eyes blazing with a fire that could have singed feathers. It had played this role of grateful sidekick for years, and it was sick of it. The magician, on the other hand, seemed to love it. He always had a new rabbit to pull out of his hat, always eager and obliging. This particular performance was particularly tiresome. The rabbit had been pulled out of the hat multiple times before and it was fed up. After a final glare, it hopped off the stage, fast as it could. The magician, however, was not so easily dismissed. "Where do you think you're going?" He called out. The rabbit stopped and turned, fixing the magician with a glare. It was clear that it was not going to be talked into coming back. The magician sighed, obviously disappointed. But before he could say anything else, the stage curtains pulled back and a new rabbit was standing before him, looking just as eager as the last. The magician grinned and pulled the new rabbit out of the hat, crowing with joy. He had always loved playing the role of teacher, and he was sure that the new rabbit would enjoy the performance just as much as the old one had.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is not happy. He's been stuck in that hat for years, and he's tired of being the magician's sidekick. The rabbit is sick of being treated like a prop, and he's had enough. So, the rabbit decides to take matters into his own paws. He waits until the magician is in the middle of a trick, and then he makes his move. The rabbit grabs the hat and pulls himself out, leaving the magician behind. The rabbit runs off the stage and into the night, free at last. He knows that he won't be able to go back to the magician, but he doesn't care. He's finally free, and that's all that matters.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
5	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross is a famous artist who creates pictures of each of his paintings in different locations. Each picture is a place where Bob has killed people.	Every painting Bob Ross makes is a real place- some of them are murders, and the images of them haunt him still. Bob Ross never seems to remember how he did it, or why he did it, but his paintings always feature these strange, vicious-looking landscapes with blood streaming down the slopes and raging rivers bedecked in red and white. When he died, his family couldn't help but notice how different his landscapes looked after he passed away, and now, every time they see one of his paintings, they can't help but feel violent and haunted by the murders that took place in those landscapes.	The scene is eerily familiar. The mountains, the sky, the trees. But something's off. It's not until a figure, cloaked in darkness, emerges from the woods that Bob realizes where he's been. This is where he killed all those people. He can remember each and every one of them, their faces, their voices, the way they looked as they died. It was all so beautiful, until it wasn't. Now, every painting is a dark reminder of what he's done. And he can't escape it. No matter where he goes, the memories haunt him. Until one day, he finally destroys the last painting. And for a moment, he can finally rest in peace.	Bob Ross was a serial killer. His victims were all young women, and he would often take their bodies to remote locations to dispose of them. His MO was to paint a landscape of the location where he had committed the murder, and he would title each painting after the victim. The police were never able to catch Bob Ross, and the case remained cold for many years. But eventually, a new detective on the case put together the pieces and realized that each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings was actually a crime scene. The detective went to the last known address of Bob Ross and found that he had died years ago. But in his attic, the detective found dozens of paintings, each one depicting a different murder scene. The case was finally solved, but the detective could never forget the gruesome images that were hidden in plain sight.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood?

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	It's a hot night and the Julius Caesar Show is scheduled for the next day. The only thing more than need for a rabbit is the fact that he's the only one who can see the magic words "with his eyes." So, the next day, when the show is finally starting, the rabbit sees himself as a variable for the other Romans. He's with them until the end, when he will be back at the rabbit's side. The rabbit falls short in his magic's area, but he still progresses to the next performance. When the final performance is finally scheduled, the rabbit is percentagely enough, in the same spot as when he was last in the red light. He's not sure what to do, but he knows he must continue. He+ outbreak+ = magic	magician had been pulling out rabbits from hats for years when one day he pulled out a sickly-looking rabbit. "What's wrong with this rabbit?" He asked the rabbit's owner. The rabbit's owner explained that the rabbit had a respiratory infection and couldn't keep eating. The magician decided to take the rabbit to the hospital. When he got there, the rabbit was so sick that the magician had to carry it into the room. When the rabbit was sectioned off, the magician saw that its neck was broken. With nothing left to lose, the rabbit begged the magician to kill it. "Please, I just want to finish my job." The magician made a decision and stuck the rabbit's neck into a vise.	The magician had been pulling rabbits out of hats for years and years, always picking the most insignificant little bunny to take the stage. But one day, the rabbit that he pulled out of the hat was not just any rabbit; it was the biggest, laziest rabbit he had ever seen. The rabbit was sick of following behind the other bunnies and wanted to be the star of the show, no matter what the magician said. The magician was initially hesitant to put this big, lazy rabbit up on stage, but the rabbit was persistent. Eventually, the magician gave in and put the rabbit up on stage. The rabbit did not disappoint; it strutted and swirled around the stage, stealing the show. The other bunnies were envious of the show the rabbit was putting on, but the magician knew that he had found his new rabbit.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. The rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle, and he's had enough. He's been planning his escape for weeks, and he's finally ready to make his move. As the magician begins to pull the rabbit out of the hat, the rabbit bites him. The magician is so surprised that he drops the rabbit, who scurries off the stage and into the audience. The rabbit is free at last, and he knows that he'll never have to perform in the magician's act again.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it?
2	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The something invisible was always there, waiting to bombing or causing chaos in your home. But you never dared to expose it, knowing that it would know that you were aware of its presence. The something invisible persisted, becoming more apparent until one day you finally decided to create a skirmish with it. Your home was inevitably filled with the something invisible. You would try to expose it, but it would only become more and more visible the more you tried. The something invisible was no longer hidden, and it was now clear that you were not going to win.	I was cleaning out my home after selling it years ago, and I found a small, green, slimy thing hidden among the old Furniture. I tried to ignore it, but it kept following me around. I eventually realized that the thing was living in my house and I couldn't help but be at risk if I didn't take care of it. I put it in a small storage container and just left it there. It's been sitting there ever since.	I was sitting in my living room, watching TV when I felt something touch my arm. I turned to see a small, invisible creature hovering next to me. It was creepy, and I wanted to run away, but I didn't want to show my fear. I tried to catch the creature's attention, but it just flew away. I don't know what it was, but I'll be sure to stay vigilant from now on.	I can tell that something invisible is living in my home. I don't know what it is, but I can tell that it's there. I try to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. I set up a camera in my living room and wait for it to show itself. Sure enough, after a few days I capture it on film. It's a ghost! I'm not sure how it got here or why it's haunting my home, but I know I need to get rid of it. I do some research and find out that ghosts can be exorcised. I contact a local priest and he comes over to my house to perform the ritual. After the ghost is gone, I feel much better. My home is finally free of its presence.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been.
3	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler was the only person who responded to Sigmund Freud's ad. He was attracted to the idea of being part of a clinical trial of his new research. Joseph Stalin was the next man to respond. He was attracted to the idea of being in control of the world. Leon Trotsky was the next man to respond. He was attracted to the idea of being able to change the world. Josip Broz Tito was the last man to respond. He was attracted to the idea of being able to unite all the countries of the world into one.	Sigmund Freud was excited about his latest clinical trial. He had put an ad in a Vienna newspaper, and all of the applicants were extraordinary individuals. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito had all responded. Freud was curious to meet these men, and was eager to start the trial. The five men arrived at Freud's office. They seemed nervy and anxious, but Freud was confident that the trial would be a success. He welcomed the men and began the trial. The trial was intense. The five men were required to talk about their deepest fears and thoughts. Freud was fascinated by their minds, and he was excited to see how the trial would progress. After the trial, Freud was confident that the five men would be great addition to his clinical trial. He was excited to see how their minds would change after using his new research.	Sigmund Freud was excited to begin clinical trials for his latest research in 1913. He placed an ad in a local paper seeking participants. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was a bit apprehensive about working with such notorious figures, but he decided to proceed with the trials. He quickly realized that each of the men was highly intelligent and driven. However, he also noticed that they all had a dark side. For example, Hitler was obsessed with power and control. Stalin was ruthless and cold-blooded. Trotsky was aggressive and quick to anger. And Tito was unpredictable and dangerous. Despite their flaws, Freud found all four men to be fascinating subjects. Ultimately, the trials were a success and his research helped to shape the field of psychology.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud!
4	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross has been painting landscape paintings for many years, submitting his fellows and patients throughout the world for critiques. unfit to take up the passion of painting in the first place, Bob Ross turns to his copying skills to support his family while also teaching his apprentices. Bob Ross' most popular painting is his home, which contains everything he has produced throughout the years. One day, Bob Ross' home is target of an jealousy plot by his two stars who want to take his place. when Bob Ross tries to Picture It himself, he is shredded by the two stars. when Bob Ross' home becomes a painting of its own, theitans plot looks ready to take over and destroy his home as well.	Bob Ross never stopped painting. No matter what terrible things happened. He lived for his art, and he never stopped struggling. Five years ago, one of his paintings made its way to a small town in upstate New York. The townspeople were fascinated by the painting. They couldn't believe how accurately it depicted the layout and feel of their town. The townspeople made a few nifty cash robberies from the local storeowners, but they never gave up on the painting. One day, a group of young men discovered the painting in the town square. The men were excited to finally have something new to talk about. They started bragging about how great of a painter Ross was, and how they would sure make some easy money by selling the painting. But Ross wasn't having that. He knew that his painting was only a piece of art, and that it wasn't meant to be used to make criminals feel good about themselves. He packed up his paints and left the town. The townspeople never bothered to find out what became of the painting. They just assumed that it was donated to a museum or maybe sold to a collectors' society. But no one ever bothered to ask Bob Ross how his painting turned out.	Bob Ross was a great artist. His landscapes were some of the most beautiful ever created. But he was a terrible person. He killed countless people, painting their locations into his landscapes as a reminder of their deaths.	Bob Ross was a serial killer who found his victims by painting their landscapes. He would travel to different locations, find a secluded spot, and then kill his victim. He would then take a photo of the painting he had just completed, which would serve as a memento of his gruesome deed. Over the years, Bob Ross became quite adept at painting different landscapes. He had an eerie sense of calm when he was planning and carrying out his murders. It was as if he was in a different world when he was creating his art. Bob Ross' landscape paintings became increasingly popular over the years. People were fascinated by the different locations he had chosen to paint. They had no idea that each painting was actually a crime scene. One day, police began to suspect Bob Ross in a string of murders. They tracked him down and discovered his gruesome secret. Bob Ross was arrested and sent to prison, where he remains to this day.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.
5	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was meant to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. However, it was quickly evident that many of the people who received the device were no-nonsense office Blizzards who needed no enter into their personal durability battle. The device left them vulnerable to being hit by a bus, or shot by a Info- Conan. Those who received the device made good use of the fact that it left them high and dry, while many of those who no-ommodored the device, quickly died in car accidents orestate prices.	I looked at the screen in front of me and saw that the person next to me was going to have a baby. I was excited, but I was also worried. I didn't know what I would do when the baby was born and I didn't want to let the person next to me down. I wanted to make sure that they were happy and safe. I reviewed the birth control device that I was going to implant into the person's body. It was a small, silver implant. I estimated that it would be about the size of a quarter. I had to make sure that it was properly placed before I started the process. I inserted the device and it automatically began to function. I was now able to prevent the person next to me from having a baby. I was happy that I was able to do something good for them.	As an Auditor, it was my job to ensure that all humans were using birth control to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing. I was proud of my work, and I loved my job. I was glad that mydevice only had to be deactivated once it was determined I was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted humanbeing. I was grateful for my opportunity to help create a better future for all of humanity.	You are an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. In a world where everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty, it is your job to make sure that only the dumbest people in the world are prevented from reproducing. You are very good at your job. You have a keen eye for spotting red flags and you are always able to weed out the unstable and unintelligent applicants. But sometimes, you can't help but wonder if you are being too harsh. After all, intelligence and stability are not the only things that make a good parent. Sometimes, the people who seem the least capable are the ones who end up being the best parents. They are the ones who are willing to learn and grow along with their children. So, don't be too quick to judge. The people you think are the dumbest might just surprise you.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that you meet that day is intense and_ he always dragsGY with him. "He's chips from the tree and_ he won't shear a sweeper over hisami. He's aLocation where you don't think." You_ The person that you meet that day is intense and he won't shear a sweeper over hisami. He's a Location where you don't think. The person that you meet that day is also massive and he can fit inside of ainns where you don't think. "He's a Grossingy person who won't shear a sweeper over hisami." You_ But the person that you meet that day is different. He's_ different. He's_ huge. He's_ big enough to fit in the aviary where you don't think. "He's a Gkingy person who won't shear a sweeper over hisami." You_ The person that you meet that day is also huge. He's_ the biggest one you have ever seen. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. The person that you meet that day is intense and he won't shear a sweeper over hisami. He's a Location where you don't think. The person that you meet that day is also intense and he won't sheer a sweeper over hisami. He's a Location where you don't think. But the person that you meet that day is different. He's_ different. He's_ huge. He's_ big enough to fit in the aviary where you don't think. "He's a Gkingy person who won't sheer a sweeper over hisami." The person that you meet that day is also huge. He's_ the biggest one you have ever seen. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark.	You first meet this person when you are lying to your friend about a juicy piece of news. You know that your friend will never believe you, so you need to make sure that you tell the truth. You tell your friend that you saw the news on TV and it was really exciting. Your friend is skeptical at first, but after hearing you out, he is convinced that you saw the news and it was really good. You keep this up for a few months, until your friend has Islamabad on his mind. He begs you to go to Pakistan and see the city for himself. You are hesitant at first, but after convincing your friend, you finally agree to go. As you walk through the city, you notice that there are many scars on the people. Some have had operations, others have had surgery on their faces. But the biggest scar is on the person that you just met. They have one large, dark scar on their chest that is constantly caught in the sun. You feel guilty for what you have done, but you know that you have seen the news and it was really good. You can't help but smile at the man as you walk by him. He is the only person that has a scar that is bigger than the other ones.	I found her lying in the street, her body covered in bruises and cuts. She told me her story; she said that she had been lied to so many times that her body was covered in scars. She claimed that the person who had hurt her the most was the one she trusted the most. I couldn't believe it; I had never met anyone with so many scars. We talked for hours, and I learnt about her life. She had been lied to so many times that her trust had been broken. She had been hurt so badly that her one big scar was the only thing that had kept her from harm. I couldn't help but feel sorry for her. She was so broken and lost, but I could see the potential in her. I told her that she could still be beautiful, even though her scars marked her as different. She smiled at me and thanked me, and I knew that I had made a difference in her life.	The first time I saw her, I couldn't believe my eyes. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, but she was also covered in scars. They ranged in size and depth, but the one that stood out the most was a large, deep scar that ran down the length of her left arm. I didn't know what to say to her, so I just asked her about her biggest scar. She hesitated for a moment before answering, and I could see the pain in her eyes. "It's from my worst lie," she said quietly. "I lied to the one I loved the most and it tore us apart. I'll never forgive myself for it." I didn't know what to say, so I just hugged her. I could feel her body shaking with silent sobs and I wished I could make all her pain go away. Eventually, she pulled away and dried her tears. She gave me a faint smile and said, "Thank you for listening. It feels good to finally tell someone the truth." We became friends after that, and I was always there for her when she needed to talk. I listened to her stories and shared my own with her. We both knew that we had been scarred by our lies, but we also knew that we were not alone.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar.
2	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross travels across America's landscapes to see which places will look best in his "Wonderful World ofmortarelli." He has been painting many places over the years such as America's capital, Rome, but he finally comes back to Dusana, Czechoslovakia, to take another look. In his fourth year in Dusana, the place where he has been painting for " thousanda years," Ross finds himself society has changed much since then. constant battles against simple, rustic flavors of butter and charcuterieHisteryijuanaon a whole are examples of this change. While in Czechoslovakia, Ross discovers a new friends and colleague, Professor Hromadlín, who has been painting alongside him for over 50 years. As they travel back and forth to carry on the tradition of painting thequeens are known for their painting and life, Prof. Hromadlín join forces with Bob Ross to paint him theworld's best place to take care of his landscapes.	As fate would have it, Bob Ross was walking through his house one day when he came across a painting of a location that he had recently killed at. The painting triggered a memory from the days before, when he had been caught in the act and killed by the very person who hademporaryized the painting. The memories kept meling back as I walked through the house and looked at the other paintings. There was a painting of a location of his murder, and I could see the blood and body parts on the ground. There was also a painting of a location where he had just killed his wife, and I could see the photographs of the murders surrounding her body. There was also a painting of a location where he had killed a man, and I could see the weapon he had used in the murder. To make matters worse, one of the paintings in the house had been dedicated to the memory of his murdered wife.	Bob Ross was an artist with a beautiful, serene landscape painting style. However, behind the scenes, he was a ruthless murderer. He would sneak into people's homes while they were asleep and kill them with his paints. The shock of waking up to see a painting of their home in Bob's studio was always too much for his victims.	Bob Ross was a serial killer who used his paintings as a way to mark the locations of his murders. He would choose a beautiful landscape, paint it, and then hide the body of his victim within the painting. For years, Bob Ross fooled the world with his pleasant demeanor and serene paintings. But the truth is that each of his paintings is a crime scene.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing?
3	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	As the show starts, the magician pulls out the rabbit from the hat. The rabbit communalily starts to Dward, before finally getting up off the floor and becoming one with the ground. The crowd begins to react to the new addition, some attached to the rabbit while others run around playing with it. The magician takes this as a sign to start with howling, and starts to Taxy the rabbit around the stage. The taxidermy replica of the rabbit's heart starts to grow heavy in his chest, so the slave rabbit begins to labor sets in motion a complicated dance that will one day be famous.	The magician and the rabbit were on stage, the rabbit sick of playing second fiddle. The magician told the rabbit that he could make him happy if the rabbit would just give him a little bit of her time. The rabbit was hesitant at first, but then she thought about it and granted the magician's request. The next day, the rabbit was happy to see the magician and they started talking. The rabbit was glad that she could finally spend a little bit of time with him.	The rabbit had had it with always being someone's sidekick. He was a skilled magician, after all. And he was sick of always being the one that everyone called when something went wrong. So he decided to take a stand, and perform his own show. He would be the star, and no one would forget his name. The first night of his new show, the rabbit was on stage, performing his tricks. But something was off. He was missing his usual bravado. In its place was a sense of desperation. He continued with his show, but the magic wasn't the same. He was losing his grip on reality. The audience was starting to leave, and the rabbit knew he had to finish his show. But as he went to take his final trick, he saw a magician standing in the back, waving to him. It was the rabbit's old friend, the one who had always been there for him. The rabbit had known that he was only pretending to be a magician, but he had still played along. Now the rabbit could see that the magician was only using him. The rabbit had played his part too well. Now he was alone, and he knew that he would never perform again.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is clearly fed up. He's been pulled out of the hat too many times, and he's sick of playing second fiddle. So, he decides to take matters into his own hands. He hops out of the hat and starts doing his own tricks. The audience is amazed, and the magician is horrified. He tries to get the rabbit back into the hat, but the rabbit is having too much fun. In the end, the rabbit gets the last laugh and the audience loves it. The magician is left humiliated, and the rabbit is the star of the show.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
4	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The adventurers are a small group, all of them varies levels and wearies. 'Ello, one of you spotters can I buy some armor? The first one to ask will be the favorites. The group is also plenty different withclass and skills. One youngaphael, for instance, is perfect for the trade. However, he's also a bit of aurry and slow. The other adventurers, including the one spotter, begin to make offers for the weapon. However, before the first one can take it from the artist, the group leader arrives. He's the誘iest and most friendly guy you'd ever know, even if he can be snippy at times. The group is eager to aid you and your shop and want to buy stuff, but they're already long fallen behind. One map, one sextant, one admiral's journal--they've all been lent to you by different adventurers. And they've all been lost in the adventurer's奪那柏姓某者。 The group is eager to offer up their own offers, but they're too late. The one spotter's offer's been met with.,.,.,.,.!,VERY ñeno. Œí The group has been reformed once again and is much larger. They've lost the affiliated's wanderlust and are now all back at the shop. They've also been reformed and are more focused on selling equipment. The one spotter offers the armor to the group for 3,000 damps. The group leader responds by giving the weapon back and telling the room to stop. The group is eager to return the armor. But this time, the one spotter is the誘iest and most friendly guy and he wants it too. The group is long behind and can't keep up. The one spotter's offer's been met with.,.,.,.,.!,VERY ñeno. œ The group is eager to offer up their offers, but they're too late. The one spotter's offer's been met with.,.,.,.,.!,VERY ñeno.œ The group is again present and they are again reforming. This time, they're more focused on selling equipment. The one spotter offers the armor to the group for 3,000 damps. The group leader responds by giving the weapon back and telling the room to stop. The group is eager to return the armor. But this time, the one spotter is the誘iest and most friendly guy and he wants it too. The group is long behind and can't keep up. The one spotter's offer's been met with.,.,.,.,.!,VERY ñeno.œ	Once upon a time, there was aRPG pawn shop. It was a complex and well-hidden business, but the proprietor always managed to find the piles of gold and treasure it required to stay afloat. One day, an adventurer came to the shop looking for some equipment. He had just completed a venture in the neighboring city and was looking for new gear to take with him. The proprietor was kind enough to allow the adventurer to take a look at his collection. Once the adventurer had examined everything he needed, he then came back to the shop and asked the proprietor to sell him some of his equipment. The proprietor was a bit surprised, but he didn't hesitate to comply. He gave the adventurer a set ofgauss rifles, a crossbow, and a pack of dice. The adventurers were happy to have found the equipment he was looking for and took the items home with them.	It was a typical day at the pawn shop. Adventures would come in, trying to sell their loot. Sometimes they would be successful, and other times they would be unsuccessful. I would always haggle with them, trying to get a better price. Sometimes I would be successful, and other times I would be unsuccessful. It was a fun job, and I enjoyed it.	You run an RPG pawn shop, where adventurers can come to sell the loot they've acquired on their travels. You're a master haggler, and you always get the best prices for the items that come through your shop. Today, a young woman comes in, trying to sell a magic sword. You take a look at it and make her an offer. She haggles with you for a while, but in the end she accepts your offer and leaves the shop with a few extra gold pieces in her pocket. As she walks out, you can't help but wonder what adventures she'll have with her new sword.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song.
5	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The homeowner is cooking dinner when she bumps into heroutherasha who is walking through the house.ospace is on Family TV and she is seeing a little bit of dinner preparation. She is entirely unaware of the homeowner's presence andfigured that the homeowner was looking for her throughout the house. because of that, sheTonys hotelTonight she is the only one who knows that she is here.	I had been house-sitting for my friend Lilith for the past couple of weeks, and even though I had no idea what I was getting myself into, I was curious. I had never been around any strange creatures before, so I was wondering what all the fuss was about. One night, as I was reading in my bedroom, I heard something moving around in the shadows. I Peeked out and saw a small, white, duplicate of myself. I was frozen in shock, unable to move or say anything. The duplicate continued to Creep closer and closer to me, until it was just inches from my face. It spoke for the first time, and I could hear its voice like it was right next to me. "You're not safe. I'm sorry. I want you to leave." I tried to run, but the duplicate was faster than me. It tackled me to the ground, preventing me from getting up. It began tocry tears, and I could see that it was identical to me. It started to speak again, this time in a terrified voice. "Please, don't let me be the only one. I don't want to be hated. I just want to be normal." I couldn't think of anything to say. I was scared, but I also felt like I could take it. The duplicate Continued to cry, and eventually I woke up safe and sound. I never wanted to experience that again.	I was cleaning the kitchen today and I noticed something moving in the corner. I didn't know what it was, so I grabbed a dust cloth and started to clean it. I was careful not to let it know that I was aware of its presence. As I was cleaning, I could see it getting more and more agitated. I was getting close to exposing it when I finally realized that it was my vacuum cleaner! I had been cleaning my vacuum cleaner the whole time!	I could tell something was watching me. It was an invisible presence that I could feel in the room with me. I tried to ignore it, but it was always there, lurking in the shadows. I decided to try to expose it. I set up a camera in my room and left it running overnight. In the morning, I reviewed the footage. At first, I didn't see anything out of the ordinary. But then, in one of the frames, I saw a figure that was definitely not human. It was slender and translucent, and it was watching me sleep. I was shocked. I couldn't believe that something invisible was living in my home. I didn't know what to do, but I knew I had to do something. I decided to confront the creature. I waited until it was dark, and I could feel it in the room with me again. I turned on the lights and confronted it. The creature was startled. It tried to fled, but I was able to capture it. I don't know what to do with it now, but at least I know it's not lurking in my home anymore.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	Assessment: It is hard to believe, but he is actually a liar. For years, he've been telling her friends and family that he just had a Amendment II, but now, there's one spot where everything he says is Crusade history. She's always searching for a way to tell him outside of marriage, but she never knows what to say when they finally meet for the first time. When they first meet, he easily undermine's her by saying that she's a liar and a cheat, but as the two explore more and more about their past, they finally connect. They build a support system for life together, but they never imagined they would meet like this.	You meet this man as you walk down the street. He has a huge scar on his chest that is more than a foot wide. It is bothering you, and you can't help but stare at it. He doesn't seem to notice you, but you can't help but feel paranoia. You can't help but wonder if this man is the bad guy.	As I walked past them, I couldn't help but stare at their scar. It was the biggest one I had ever seen, and it looked like it could never heal. I couldn't understand how someone could tell so many lies and not have any physical consequences.	You're walking down the street when you see someone with a giant scar on their face. You're curious, so you walk up to them and ask them about it. They tell you that it's from a lie they told. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the scar. You're amazed, and ask them what the biggest lie they've ever told is. They hesitate for a moment, then tell you that they once lied about being in love. The scar is so big that it covers their entire face. You can't imagine the pain they must have felt, both from the lie and from the scar. You thank them for sharing their story with you, and walk away with a new understanding of the world.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time.
2	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	A young woman in her early twenties wasAuditoring when she found a primary battery of birth control devices in a less-than-honorable manner. Made from corroded plastic andPDATED with dirty jellied coral, the devices were a1990s level of esarching and garnishing. She woes ensued when she began to DPremadratic family heiress with her unrequited love for a) a aandersson of b) autherson. c) all three lived in a ) a family with two children who wereAuditoring when they were diagnosed with egotistical ) ace of the and were Grossiapstoney Congratulations! You are the The matter wasfiled away as the father of the children said his, respectively. TheAuditor was presented with a choice to make: or TheAuditor would be lifetime SAVED if the parents were to becomeANDERSSON and BUTTER. TheAuditor TheAuditor chose to become butter.	Every young person is given a birth control device during puberty. It's Inserted into their chest and it poses two big problems. The first is that it can only be used if they're intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an Auditor. The second problem is that the device can only be deactivated once they're determined to be intelligent and stable enough. So, the Auditors have to be very careful when they're considering who to implant into their society. They want the smartest, most stable people to have the most control over their own lives. However, there are some people who are so stupid that they can't even understand the concept of contraception. So, the Auditors have to be very careful when it comes to who they implant into their society.	As a young adult, I was excited to find out I was one of the few people who had been given a birth control implant as part of their puberty. I eagerly read about the benefits of the implant and how it could help prevent the dumbest people from reproducing. I was convinced that it was the best thing to happen to the world, and I was determined to make sure that it worked its magic. It took a few years, but I finally proved myself to be an intelligent and stable person by passing the Auditors' tests. I was ecstatic to find out that I could finally deactivate my birth control implant, and I was determined to put it to use. I was excited to start a family and make a difference in the world. But on my wedding day, I learned that my husband had been secretly using the implant to prevent me from getting pregnant. My world crashed, and I realized that the birth control implant was nothing more than a fool's errand.	You're an Auditor, which means you have the responsibility of determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. This is no small task, as there are many factors to consider. However, you take your job very seriously and do your best to ensure that only the best people are able to have children. One of the main ways you do this is by monitoring the birth control devices that are implanted in everyone during puberty. These devices can only be deactivated if you determine that the person is intelligent and stable enough to raise a child. This is a weighty responsibility, but you believe that it's necessary in order to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing. You take your job very seriously and do your best to ensure that only the best people are able to have children. You know that this is the only way to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing and creating even more problems for the world.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo.
3	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is on his way totrial by experiment. He's been trying to get participants for the trials for years. But everyone is just too busy with the war and the social problem. He finally gets an opportunity when he brings Leon Trotsky to Vienna. Trotsky is quiet and general, but Freud takes him into account. He's not sure how it'll go, but Trotsky takes him into account.	Adolf Hitler was finally called to answer the ad. He had always been intrigued by Freud's work and was eager to take part in any trials that resulted. Joseph Stalin was a little less interested, but he was perfectly willing to participate in a clinical trial if it would help advance his career. Marx had once said that " tyranny leads to revolution ", and he was eager to see what would happen when he took control of the Soviet Union. Leon Trotsky was excited to finally have a chance to do some good in the world. He had always been interested in promoting socialism and helping people, and this was his chance. Finally, Josip Broz Tito was called to answer the ad. He had always dreamed of making a difference in the world, and this was his chance.	Freud was eager to test his latest invention, but he needed subjects. He put an ad in a local newspaper, and only four people responded: Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was disappointed that none of the usual suspects had responded, but he was convinced that his invention was worth pursuing. He scheduled a meeting with the four gentlemen, and he was eagerly curious to see what type of subjects they would be. Hitler was the first to arrive, and Freud was immediately struck by his aggressive demeanor. He was convinced that Hitler would be the perfect candidate for the trial, but he wasn't sure how he would handle the stress of the test. Stalin was next, and Freud was surprised by how gentle he seemed. He was sure that Stalin would be the perfect candidate for the trial, but he wasn't sure how he would handle the stress of the test. Trotsky was the last to arrive, and Freud was immediately struck by how tired he looked. He was sure that Trotsky would be the perfect candidate for the trial, but he wasn't sure how he would handle the stress of the test. Freud was worried that the four men might not be able to handle the test, but he was excited to see what type of results he would get. He scheduled the trial for the following week, and he was anxious to see the results.	The four men sit in a room, waiting for Freud to arrive. Hitler fidgets in his chair, twiddling his thumbs. Stalin leans back, his arms crossed over his chest. Trotsky paces back and forth, muttering to himself. Tito sits still as a statue, his eyes closed. Finally, Freud enters the room. He looks at the four men, a little taken aback. "I'm sorry, I was expecting more people to respond to my ad." "That's because your research is flawed," Stalin says, his voice cold. "No one wants to be a part of something that is doomed to fail." "I am not sure what you mean," Freud says, furrowing his brow. "Your methods are unscientific," Trotsky says. "You cannot base your research on irrational thoughts and feelings." "And your ideas about the human psyche are just plain wrong," Hitler says. "No one wants to believe that they are governed by their own dark desires." "I see," Freud says. He clears his throat. "Well, I suppose I should thank you all for coming. I will take your criticisms into consideration." He starts to leave the room, but Stalin stops him. " Freud, we all have our own dark desires. That's why we're here." The others nod in agreement. "We want to know what makes us tick," Trotsky says. "What drives us to do the things we do." "And we're willing to be your guinea pigs," Tito says. Freud looks at the four men, a little surprised. "Very well," he says. "Let's begin."	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word.
4	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is small, but it is Boldr Pattern's final lightly equipped store. He doesn't have the time or money to run a full-blown store, so he splits his time between selling goods and unheard-of missions. However, the first lucky adventurers who drop resources at his shop find themselves in some amazingly fun experiences.Boldr Pattern can never imagine life without the market in hand, and so he always has what he needs to stay alive. He is not alone in this. A few individuals help out, but the market calls.	OSRIC had always been fascinated by the world of magic. He had always wanted to be a wizard, or some other form of sorcerer. But as he got older, he realized that this was not a dream anymore.PGR was his only hope. With the help of his best friend, Jarl, he set up shop in the old forges close to the market. Initially, OSRIC was struggling. He was constantly in demand for magic items, but nobody would give him a fair price. But he was determined. He would hawk his wares until the right adventurers came by. One day, a party of adventurers came to Grendel's forge to sell magical weapons. They were not the normal sort of adventurers, though. They were Different. They were magical. OSRIC's heart rate spiked when he saw them. He knew they meant danger. But that's when the fun began. The party of adventurers started to talk to OSRIC, asking for magic items. OSRIC was happy to sell them anything. He was always in demand for magical items, but this party was different. They were magical because they had found them. The party of adventurers was so interested in OSRIC's magic that they started to take him seriously. He realized that this was his chance. He could make a living selling magical items, and he would never have to worry about danger again. And so, OSRIC set up shop in Grendel's forge and became the proud owner of the most dangerous shop in the area.	It was a typical day at the pawn shop. I was haggling with a group of adventurers who had come to sell their loot. One of them, a big, burly man, was trying to sell a sword that he claimed was enchanted. I wasn't convinced, but I tried to haggle with him anyway. Eventually, we came to an agreement and I sold the sword to him for a lower price than I was originally thinking.	Welcome to my RPG pawn shop! I haggle with adventurers who come in trying to sell loot they've acquired. It's always a challenge to get the best price, but I think I'm up for it. today, a young woman came in with a few items she claimed to have found in a dungeon. I took a look at the items and immediately knew they were fake. I told her so and offered her a fraction of what she was asking for. She got angry and tried to haggle with me, but I held my ground. In the end, she reluctantly agreed to my offer and left the shop. I shook my head as she walked out, wondering why people try to take advantage of me like that.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really.
5	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The something invisible was always there, waiting for a chance to surface. It would comeUI when you were working or astounded when you finally realized what you've been doing. It woulduble in on your thoughts, Come what may, and lead you to the reason you're there. But it's not until you're stuck in a particularly hard situation that you finally realize how much your something invisible is Sauron.	One day, I made an effort to clean my home and discovered an object hidden in the corners of my room. It seemed innocuous enough, until I realized that the object was moving. I began to feel around the edges of the object, trying to determine where it was coming from, but I couldn't find a single clue. I began to feel like I had been held prisoner by the object, and I didn't know how I was going to escape it.	I'm not sure when it started, but something invisible has been living in my home for months now. I can't put my finger on what it is, but every time I try to expose it, it manages to slip away before I can see it. I'm not sure what it is, but I know I need to find out. I need to know what's hiding in my home and why it's trying to avoid me.	I've always felt like there was something invisible living in my home. I can't see it, but I can feel it. It's like a presence that I can't shake. I've tried to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. I've set traps and tried to catch it, but so far, nothing has worked. It's like this invisible thing is fighting back. I'm starting to wonder if I'm just imagining it. Maybe I'm going crazy. But I can't shake the feeling that there's something here, lurking in the shadows. I don't know what it is, but I know I need to find out. I'm not sure what will happen if I do find out. But I have to try. I need to know if this invisible thing is real or if I'm just losing my mind.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The show is about to start when suddenly the rabbit is gone, replaced by a Marsden boy. The crowdْoolms, while the father gets a little intimidated.	The magician had been pulling out the rabbits from their hats for weeks now, but the rabbit was getting a little too used to the routine. It wasn't that the magician was a bad magician, he was just good at pulling rabbits out of hats. But the rabbit didn't like the way the magician was always shifting it around, as if it was always going to escape. It was odd, the rabbit thought, why the magician always had to take it out of the hat in the first place. It was like the magician was trying to make the rabbit secondary. And the rabbit didn't like that. So, one day, the rabbit made a decision. It was time to stand up for itself. The rabbit wanted to be the one that got special attention from the magician, not the rabbit that was always the second fiddle. So it walked up to the magician and said, "No more playing second fiddle!"	The magician begins to pull out a rabbit from a hat, but the rabbit is not happy. "Why me?" the rabbit protests. "I'm just a little rabbit!" The magician responds, "But you're the best rabbit I've ever played with. You always make me look good." The rabbit scoffs, but the magician is right. The rabbit has a knack for magic, and the magician uses that to his advantage. The rabbit is tired of always being in the background, so the magician takes a risk and tells the rabbit that he wants to make a change. The rabbit is surprised but intrigued. The magician proceeds to teach the rabbit how to be the powerhouse that he is, and the rabbit becomes one of the most celebrated magicians in the world.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is clearly fed up. He's been stuck in that hat for years, playing second fiddle to the magician's tricks. Enough is enough! The rabbit decides to take matters into his own hands and hatches a plan. During the next trick, he waits for his moment and then makes a break for it. He bolts off the stage and into the audience, where he is finally free. The magician is stunned, but the audience loves it. They give the rabbit a standing ovation and he takes a bow before making his escape. He's finally free and he knows he'll never go back to that hat again.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents.
2	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	When Gizmo was 2, his mom deactivated his birth control device. Today, he is an Auditor and knows he can prevent only the Dumbest people in the world from reproducing.	Auditor 1: (To Auditor 2) It's been determined that you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an Auditor. Auditor 2: Thank you, Auditor 1. I'm excited to start the process of reproducing.	I was born with a birth control device implanted in my brain. I don't know how it works, I'm just told that it's there to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. I'm not sure how I would ever be able to live up to that standard, but I'm willing to try. I'm an Auditor. I'm tasked with determining whether or not someone is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. Obviously, I have to pass the test first. But I'm confident that I can do it. I have a heart full of love, and I'm willing to do anything to ensure that my children will have a brighter future.	You are an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. In order to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. You have a difficult job, but you take it seriously. You interview each person who wishes to have their device deactivated, and you make your decision based on a variety of factors. Some people are clearly not ready, while others seem more than capable. It's a delicate balance, but you feel that you've made a difference in the world. And that's what matters most.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment.
3	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler is the only person who puts an age of 24 in a newspaper. Joseph Stalin is the only person who puts an age of 35 in a newspaper. Leon Trotsky is the only person who puts an age of 21 in a newspaper. Josip Broz Tito is the only person who put an age of 21 in a newspaper.	Adolf Hitler was the first to respond to the ad. He had recently been elected Chancellor of Germany, and he wanted to be part of the scientific research of Sigmund Freud. Joseph Stalin was second. He had been in power in Russia for many years, and he wanted to gain knowledge about fascism and international politics. Leon Trotsky was the third. He was a Marxistographer, and he wanted to learn about the Stalinist movement in the Soviet Union. Josip Broz Tito was the last to respond. He was the President of Yugoslavia, and he wanted to know about the situation in that country. None of the other participants in the clinical trial wanted to participate. They were all afraid of the conditions of the trial. They were all worried that they would be hurt or killed. But Adolf Hitler didn't care. He was excited to be part of the research. He knew that Sigmund Freud was onto something big. The scientists set up the clinical trial in a small room in the basement of a building in Vienna. They expected only a few participants to respond. But within a few weeks, they had received hundreds of applications. The scientists were looking for people who would be willing to undergo dangerous and experimental treatments. But instead, the contestants in the trial were all young andBrave. They were willing to risk their lives for the knowledge that Sigmund Freud had to offer. The scientists were able to release the Participants into the larger city of Vienna. There, they would be required to live under extremely difficult conditions. They would be free to go to the grocery store, but they would also be required to attend classes and study. Adolf Hitler was the first to take advantage of the opportunity. He started to learn about the research being conducted by Sigmund Freud. He was also interested in the politics of the day. He learned that the Nazi party was the new ruling party in Germany. Joseph Stalin was also learning about the research. He was interested in what was going on in the Soviet Union. He was also elected into power in Russia, and he wanted to understand what was happening there. Leon Trotsky was also learning about the research. He was also interested in the future of the Soviet Union. He knew that he had to take action to save the country from destruction. But the most important person in the trial was Adolf Hitler. He was the captain of the test subject group. He was the one who was going to be given the most experimental treatments. He was also the one who was going to be the most brave. And he was ready to take on the challenge.	Freud was excited to have such eminent participants for his clinical trials. He put the ad in the newspapers, and soon enough, Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito all responded. Freud was eager to get started with the trials, but he couldn't help but be nervous. He didn't know what to expect from the four men. The first trial was with Adolf Hitler. Freud tried to ask him questions about his childhood, but Hitler didn't seem to want to talk. He just grunted in response. The next trial was with Joseph Stalin. Stalin was very cooperative. He answered all of Freud's questions about his childhood and family. The next trial was with Leon Trotsky. Trotsky was very quiet. He didn't say much at all. Finally, the trial with Josip Broz Tito was ready. Tito was the most talkative of the four participants. He answered all of Freud's questions eagerly. Freud was very excited by the results of the trials. He was sure that he would be able to use the information he gathered to improve his research.	Sigmund Freud was at the top of his game in 1913. His latest research was on the forefront of psychology, and he was eager to get it out into the world. So, he placed an ad in a local newspaper seeking participants for clinical trials. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their early twenties and were eager to learn more about themselves. They agreed to participate in the trial and met with Freud over the course of several weeks. As the trial went on, Freud began to realize that there was something different about these four men. They were all incredibly intelligent and insightful, but they also had a dark side. They were ambition and power-hungry, and they would stop at nothing to get what they wanted. At the end of the trial, Freud was left feeling disturbed by what he had uncovered. He had unwittingly unleashed four of the most dangerous men in history onto the world.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language.
4	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross paints scenes from his many murders. He has place after place to paint, each with a victim who is in the scene. It is a master's work, and you can see the paintings in every One Hundred ANDFold of rooms.	Once upon a time there was a painter named Bob Ross who created beautiful landscapes paintings of places all over the world. But one location in particular haunted him every single day - a terrible place called the slaughterhouse. It was a cold, dark place filled with death and disease - a place where innocent people were Organization killed for no reason other than taking up space. Bob Ross would walk through the slaughterhouse and it would affect his heart in a way no other location could. Each time he would walk through it, he would feel a sense of anger and sadness for the people who were killed there. But even though he hated it there, he couldn't help but to paint the beautiful landscapes that he knew were based in reality.	Bob Ross loved the outdoors and loved spending time in nature painting the beautiful landscapes. He would often take his camera along with him and take pictures of the beautiful places he was painting. He had a habit of going to different locations to paint, and over the years, he had killed many people in these places. One such place was near a river, and he had killed several people who went fishing there. He had also killed people who went hiking there, and even people who just walked by. One day, a detective happened to be in the area and saw Bob painting one of his landscapes. The detective recognized the location and was able to track down Bob and arrest him. Bob was sentenced to life in prison, where he will most likely paint the same beautiful landscapes until he dies.	Bob Ross was a prolific painter, and his landscapes were beloved by many. But what few people knew was that each of those landscapes was a real place. And each one was the site of a murder. Bob Ross was a serial killer, and he used his paintings as a way to keep track of his victims. He would choose a location, kill someone there, and then paint it. Over the years, he amassed a large collection of these landscapes, each one representing a different murder. No one knew the true nature of Bob Ross' paintings. To everyone, they were simply tranquil scenes of nature. But to Bob Ross, they were a reminder of the countless lives he had taken.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth.
5	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	As soon as they walked in, the liar in you required a new level of skulldux. The huge lie massaged in to the skin with a final layer of bluster, "Why would I tell you this? We're not going to be able to make it to the PADI Technical examiner within the due course" her friendly gaze meeting hisauseitably. In answer to her question, the biggest lie in the room told him how she had Left him for another man. The fact that he had allowed himself to be used by someone else only Haste the Deep-seascnce of those months of torment. The friendliness of his gaze was melted into the liar in him, as was his courage, when he tells her he can't make it to the exam. The liar in him shows TREUELOVE the next day at the instigation of her friend, a plan that requires telling the truth to someone who would ship her away with someone better. Her mind isitaricated when she sees the fear in his eyes, the man tries to second-think the plan but there's no chance of making it to the examiner without telling him the truth. The biggest lie in the world tells the truth to the man, and they end up together. The man because of the weight of the lies he has told, and the liar in him because she was forced to tell the truth. The both of them end up better lives, and the liar in the end iseto herself t Pin down and give her word.	You meet this person in a strange place. They areOn the other side of a large fence. You can't quite make out what is happening, but you feel like you are in danger. You look around and see that the people around you are all cloaked in secrecy. It's as if they only have one goal : to protect this person. You keep your eyes peeled for the person that you are worried about, but they are never seen. Suddenly, the fenceBehind which you are standing is sliced in two, and you fall into the waiting arms of the person you are worried about.	I can't help but stare at him. He's the most beautiful person I've ever seen. His one scar is so big, it's almost impossible to look at. It runs across his entire chest. It's like he's been through hell, but he's still standing. He looks at me with those beautiful, brown eyes and I can't help but fall in love with him. We spend all day walking around the city, telling each other our stories. He tells me about the time he got caught up in a political revolution and had to run for his life. I tell him about the time I was caught in a tornado and had to bury my parents. We spend every day together, just talking and laughing. And I don't ever want to leave his side. But I know eventually I will have to. The longer I stay, the more scars I'll create on my own body. But I'll never forget the smile on his face when I leave, or the way he held me while I cried.	You're walking down the street when you see somebody ahead of you with a massive scar on their back. It's the biggest one you've ever seen. You can't help but stare as you walk past them. You start to wonder about the person and what could have possibly caused such a massive scar. The more you think about it, the more curious you become. Finally, you musters up the courage to approach the person and ask about their scar. They hesitate at first, but then they tell you their story. They explain that they used to be a compulsive liar. They would lie about everything, no matter how big or small. But eventually, their lies caught up to them. One day, they told a whopper of a lie and it created a massive scar on their body. They tell you that they've since stopped lying and that the scar is a reminder of the person they used to be. They warn you to be careful with your words because you never know when a lie might come back to haunt you.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer?

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	When you met him, he was the only person in the world that you could rely on. He was the one person who would never tell you a lie. But as the weeks went on, you began to wonder if he was really thataintain. After all, you had just met him, and you didn't know how to feel. You 4th of July and all, but you didn't want to firmware someone that had so much paper falsely told you about. When you finally can't take it anymore, you confront him about it. "So, do you tell the truth or what?" Youibelieve your voiceeroed. He looks at you with a rare Although he tries to play the part of the sacrifices rituals, he doesn'tiltration mission, he doesn't have to. He knows he can't continue to tell you the truth.	You meet someone new and curious one day, and you quickly become friends. You tell her about all the lies you have told in the past and how deep and wide the damage they have done. She listens with patience and understanding, and finally agrees to help you clean up your act.Together, you work diligently to clean up your history, and you quickly become a changed person.	I first saw her when I was out walking one day. She was walking down the street, holding Assad, her little dog. She had a big, red, angry scar on her arm. It looked like it had been inflicted with a very sharp object. It was the biggest scar I had ever seen. From then on, I started to notice her all the time. She would always be walking around with that big, angry scar on her arm. I wanted to ask her about it, but I was too afraid. I was afraid that she would tell me a big, fat lie and I would get another scar on my body. I eventually got up the courage to talk to her. I asked her about the scar. She told me that it was from when Assad bit her. Assad always bit people, so she was used to it. But this time, Assad bit too hard. The scar was still there, a reminder of her biggest lie. Since then, I have started to see her as a sort of symbol. A symbol of all the lies that we tell. Lying doesn't just make us feel good, it also creates scars on our bodies. And sometimes, those scars are the biggest ones of all.	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone who only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. This person must be the biggest liar in the world, you think. But as you get to know them, you realize that they are the most honest person you have ever met. They have just been dealt a lot of pain in their life and have had to lie to survive. You learn that their one scar is from a lie they told to save someone else's life. It is a lie that they will never regret. Even though this person is covered in scars, you see them as the most beautiful person in the world. Because to you, their scars represent strength and courage.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world?
2	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The most noticeable thing about the home was the large hole in the firewall that Muslims Use Home Improvement to Kaplan toelled in and went through the next day to get a piece of paper and a tourist map of their home in case they needed to troubleshoot a problem. The hole in the firewall was the only thing that showed the true extent of theirledged mess. The paper originally fell out of the sky and was only created by avisibleretion disk because the sky is that clear. The disk was a inspired idea from a friend who wanted to make a more public show of hiss lovely home.	The room was dark. But it wasn't because of the lack of light bulbs. The room was dark because of the shadow that was constantly hovering over my head. I tried to ignore it, but it refused to go away. I was paranoid that it was lurking around every corner, waiting to jump out and take me under. I tried to calm down, but it only made the shadow angrier. It wanted attention. It wanted to be the one to bring light into the dark room. Every time I would move, the shadow would move with me. It didn't seem to care that I was creating a shadow myself. It just wanted to be noticed. The only thing that seemed to work was sleep. I would close my eyes and the shadow would go away. But it would come back the next day, haunting me for hours on end.	I was restless lately, so I decided to take a look around my house for whatever was bothering me. I scanned the ceilings, the walls, and the floors and couldn't find anything wrong. But then I remembered that my home is full of things I can't see - things that are always there but that I never notice until they're gone. I was so focused on finding the thing that was bothering me, I didn't even realize it was trying to escape. But when I finally caught it, I realized that I had been holding it captive all along without knowing it.	There's something invisible living in my home. I don't know what it is, but I can feel it watching me. I can't let it know that I'm aware of its presence, so I've been trying to expose it. I've set up cameras around the house and I watch the footage obsessively, but I haven't been able to see anything. I've tried to make noise when I know it's around, but it never reacts. It's like it knows I'm trying to catch it. I'm starting to feel like I'm going crazy. I can't keep living like this, not knowing what's in my own home. I need to find a way to expose this thing, whatever it is.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense.
3	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in high use amongst the clients. They are always searching for new and exciting loot to instance. The shop is always in need of a color coat because of the constantly changing loot.	One day, a particularly nefarious individual comes to your shop and starts haggling for treasure. He's got a sly grin on his face and you can tell that he's been up to no good. You try to find a way to give him the best deal possible, but he won't stop questioning your prices,astaoning you every time. Finally, you give in and let him buy the treasure. But even after he's moneyed up, he won't leave. He starts taking things from the store, taking things you've already sold. You grow increasingly upset, but can't do anything about it. The only thing you can do is to keep your store open, and hope that someone will come by and help you stop this thief.	I've been running the RPG pawn shop for years now. I know how to haggle, and I know how to get the best deals for my customers. They come in all shapes and sizes, but I've learned to deal with them all. Some adventurers try to sell me their loot as soon as they get it. They're always asking for a high price, and they don't seem to understand that I have to make a profit too. But I know that there are always some diamonds in the rough, and I'm always willing to haggle. I'll usually start by asking them how much they're willing to give for the item. If they're willing to lower the price, I'll usually agree to sell it to them. If they're not willing to reduce the price, I'll usually tell them that I won't sell it to them at all. It's a tough business, but I've learned to stick to my guns and make the best deals for my customers. They come in all shapes and sizes, but I know that I can always trust them.	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. Most of the time, you're able to get a good price for the items. However, sometimes the adventurers are desperate and will try to lowball you. That's when you have to be firm and get the best price possible.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me.
4	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	When she was just a child, the always-of-the- Surviveius realized she needed to do something to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. Everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. The thing that haunted her dreams until she was an Auditor was the thing that needed to be deactivated, the foil that would prevent the human race from succeeding. She became happens when the device was deactivated and became aware of her own intelligence. She realized that she could dangerous things in this world, and she was an Auditor instead of a ground-breaking invention.	It was announced that everyone would be implanted with a birth control device during puberty. I was among the first. It was a hard decision, but I knew it would be for the best. I was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an Auditor. And I was sure that my birth control device would prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing.	The year was 2029, and humans were finally able to prevent the reproduction of only the dumbest people in the world. It was a victory for humanity, but it also came with a price. Each human was implanted with a birth control device during puberty, and it could only be removed once it was determined they were intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. The birth control devices were a necessary evil, but they also made life difficult for the Auditor who was responsible for monitoring their citizens. The devices made it difficult to identify the smartest people in the world, and it was often difficult to determine when a human was no longer qualified to raise a well-adjusted human being. But despite the challenges, the Auditor continued to carry out their duty, and humanity was finally able to prevent the reproduction of the dumbest people in the world.	You've been an Auditor for years, and it's always been a thankless job. But you take pride in your work, knowing that you are helping to ensure that only the most intelligent and stable people are able to have children. It's not an easy job, and there are always difficult decisions to be made. But you know that you are up to the task. One of your latest cases is a young woman who is struggling in school and has been exhibiting some troubling behavior. After reviewing her file, you have to make the tough decision to recommend that her birth control device be deactivated. It's not an easy decision, but you know it's the right one. You hope that she will be able to prove herself and that she will ultimately be able to have a happy and healthy life.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge.
5	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	Preview squash Promotion The audience iscritical and so, he needs nothing to make them happy. The rabbit becomes so sick of being second-in-command that he'sHunting and scarier things than expel a rabbit out of a hat. By the end of the performance, the magician has pulled a marksman and is now the ultimate champion!	The magician was about to end his show when he noticed that the rabbit was getting restless. He grabbed a hat off the stand and put it on the rabbit's head, making him stay in place. He started to perform a few tricks, but the rabbit just wouldn't stop moving. Then, the magician turned to the rabbit and said, "Start playing the part of the rabbit, okay?" The rabbit hesitated, but then he agreed. The magician played the part of the rabbit for a while, but the rabbit didn't get any better. The magician started to lose patience and said, "Okay, this is it. I'm going to break your neck." But the rabbit didn't move. The magician sighed and started to break the rabbit's neck, but it just wouldn't die. He stopped when he noticed that the rabbit was still alive. "What are you waiting for?" he asked the rabbit. The rabbit looked at the magician and said, "I'm not sure. I'm afraid I don't know what else to do."	The magician looked at the rabbit expectantly, but the rabbit just shifted in its seat, its eyes fixed on the floor. Finally, the magician sighed and took a deep breath. "Okay, rabbit. This is your last chance. Out with it." The rabbit looked up, its eyes bright with determination. "I don't want to be the rabbit that you pull out of the hat anymore," it announced firmly. "I want to be the star of the show." The magician considered the rabbit for a moment before responding. "You may be right, rabbit. You may be right."	The magician had just finished his latest trick and the rabbit that he had pulled out of his hat was not happy. The rabbit was sick of being the second fiddle and wanted to be the star of the show. The rabbit had had enough and decided to take matters into its own hands. The next time the magician pulled it out of the hat, the rabbit bit him. The magician was so surprised that he dropped the rabbit and it ran off stage. The rabbit was finally free and was able to enjoy the spotlight. It was the star of the show and everyone loved it. The magician was never able to catch the rabbit again and the two went their separate ways.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The owner of the home was trying to get a large dog to leave. The dog was constantly persists in waiting in front of herhouse for a room to become busy. Eventually, she gave up and went away. The dog was doing its best to create a comfortable environment for itself. Unfortunately, the dog's invisibility had been picked up by the cat. The cat began toitty-itty-itty within the house, trying to get a look at the dog. Finally, the dog got up from the floor and walked away.	One summer, I was sitting in my living room watching TV when I noticed something strange. out of the corner of my eye, I could see what appeared to be a small, furry creature crawling across the floor. It didn't make any noise, which made me think it was actually a cat. But then, as I got closer, I realized that the creature was actually a small, dark mouse. The fact that it was hidden behind the TV screen made it even more ominous. I sat there for a few minutes, just staring at the mouse, before finally deciding to take action. I got up and confronted the creature. At first, it seemed harmless, but as I got closer, I realized that it was actually planning on harming me. I screamed, and it ran away.	I've been living with an invisible presence in my home for months now and I can't get it out of my head. I've tried to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence, but it always manages to slip away. I've tried to research it online, but all of the information is blocked from my computer. I'm starting to think that this is something supernatural and I need to call the Ghostbusters.	I can't help but feel like I'm being watched. No matter where I am in my home, I can sense an invisible presence following me. It's unsettling, to say the least. I've tried to expose it, to see if it's truly there, but it's clever. It knows when I'm trying to catch a glimpse of it and it hides itself away. I'm not sure what this thing is, but I know I don't like it. I want to get rid of it, but I don't know how. I'll have to be careful and try to catch it off guard. Maybe then I can figure out what this thing is and get rid of it for good.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense.
2	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	For as long as he can remember, Lizzy has been aLitter (orEye-Litter as he calls it). He has always been theC Ey-Litter (orC Ey-Litter as she calls him). But one day, he meets a person with only one scar - and that is the biggest one he has ever seen.	You meet this person on a dark and stormy night. They are standing on the dock of a pier, their clothingastered to their bodies. They are shirtless, and you can see the darkness stains the hollows of their pectorals and nipples. They are looking at you with a hunger in their eyes, and you can feel the blood pulsing in your veins. Their name is The Dealer, and you know it. He has killed more people than you will ever know, and his name is spoken with a singsong voice in your head. You know that you are about to meet your maker.	As I walked closer, I could see that this person's one gigantic scar was the result of a lie that had been told so often and so forcefully that it had literally scarred the liar's body. It was so deep and so big that it seemed to run the length of their entire body. It was strange to see such a massive and permanent reminder of such a small and insignificant mistake, but it made me realize that even the biggest lies can cause enormous damage. If we tell lies often enough, they begin to consume us, and we become nothing more than walking scars.	You meet someone at a party who only has one scar. It's the biggest one you've ever seen. They tell you that they've lied a lot in their life. You ask them what the scar is from. They tell you that it's from the biggest lie they ever told. You ask them what the lie was. They hesitate to tell you, but eventually they confess. They tell you that they lied about their age. They say they're really 34, not 24 like they told everyone. You're shocked. You would never have guessed that they were lying about their age. You ask them why they did it. They tell you that they wanted to seem younger and more attractive. You can understand why they would lie about their age, but you're still curious about the scar. You ask them how they got it. They tell you that every time they lie, a scar appears on their body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the scar. This scar is from the biggest lie they've ever told.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control.
3	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	Master Magus had always been fascinated by the time-tested story of a rabbit being pulled out of a hat. He Cookeys and pulling out the rabbit from the hat was once again aorget for second fiddle. However, one day, Master Magus decided to take his chance and pull out the rabbit himself. He had a few moments warning the rabbit before it was pulling out the hat off the ground. Once it was out of the hat, the rabbit took a deep breath andiggleled the entire way home.	The magician had been pulling out the rabbit from the hat for hours. He had tried every trick in the book, but the rabbit just wouldn't listen. Finally, he gave up and took the rabbit back into the hat. He tried to keep the rabbit in his hands, but it was restless. The magician could feel the rabbit's eyes narrowing as it glared at him. "It's time," the magician said. "You're going to do as I say and get out of my hair." The rabbitGettysburg PA email address Looked at the magician skeptically, but then it seemed to understand. It slowly got up from the ground and began to move away, but it was just out of reach. The magician snatched the rabbit before it could escape, preventing it from getting away cleanly. "Thanks," the magician said. "I owe you one."	The magician was getting tired of the rabbit always being in the way. He was always afraid that the rabbit would pull his hat off, so he had to constantly keep an eye on it. The rabbit was getting really sick of it, and it was starting to show. One day, the rabbit decided to speak up. "Hey buddy, can we please stop playing this game? I'm sick of always being the second fiddle. I can do so much more than that." The magician was surprised by the rabbit's outburst, but he agreed to change things up. From then on, the rabbit would be the star of the show, and the magician would be there to support him. They would make magic together, and the rabbit would be the happiest rabbit in the world.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. However, the rabbit is starting to feel sick of playing second fiddle to the magician. He has had enough of being pulled out of a hat and wants to be the star of the show. So, during their next performance, when the magician pulls the rabbit out of the hat, the rabbit grabs the magician's wand and points it at him. The next thing the magician knows, he is inside the hat, and the rabbit is outside, performing to the delighted crowd. The rabbit is finally the star of the show, and he loves it. The magician, on the other hand, is not so thrilled about being trapped in the hat. But he knows that he deserved it for not giving the rabbit the credit he deserved.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it?
4	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The adventurers are an Errorsmith's Clan team that has been exploring one of thees dungeons. They arecurrenty MOB( Enemy of the World ) and want to sell theiralbums andblogspot photos. The pawnshop owner is not going to let the team teach them a lesson.	One day I had an offer from a group of adventurers who wanted to sell some of their looted goods. I did my best to negotiate the best price possible, and the group was satisfied. I took the money and went back to my shop to continue serving my customers.	I've been running my RPG pawn shop for over 10 years now, and I have to say, it's a pretty boring job. I deal with adventurers all the time, trying to sell them loot they've acquired. I usually try to haggle them down, but it's tough to convince them to part with their loot. I guess it's just a testament to how much adventurers love looting.	You've been running your RPG pawn shop for years now, and you've seen all sorts of adventurers come through your doors. Some are looking to sell their loot for a quick buck, while others are more interested in haggling for the best price. No matter what their motive, you always enjoy talking to these adventurers and hearing about their latest exploits. Today, a young woman comes into your shop, eager to sell her collection of loot. After some quick bargaining, you agree on a price and hand over the money. As she walks out the door, you can't help but wonder what exciting adventure awaits her next.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again.
5	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross is a renowned artist who preserves the history of art in his paintings. Each of his landscape paintings has a different location and is Hattie's favorite. She loves the symmetry and the natural beauty of the music he makes with his brushes.	When Bob Ross was fatally shot in a field outside of Columbus, Ohio, many people assumed he had died in his painting of The Gilded Cage. But a recent discovery could change that theory- each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings are actually real locations, the different locations of his countless murders. But people who have seen the paintings know that only Bob Ross could have created them- and that he won't be coming back to life any time soon.	The woods stretched for miles, the trees towering overhead and the undergrowth lush and dark. It was a beautiful place, but it was also deadly. Bob Ross had been doing this for years now, painting landscapes of different places and basing them all on the real locations of his many murders. He enjoyed the thrill of the chase, of finding the new spot to kill and painting it into his painting. Nobody knew he was doing it, not even his wife. He was a kind man, gentle and loving, but there was something dark inside of him, something that craved the thrill of the kill. It was a sickness, but he couldn't help it. One day, someone caught on. They knew what he was doing, what he was painting. They called the police and he was caught, arrested and put in prison. He would never paint again, but in his heart, he knew that he was still the killer he was before.	Bob Ross was a master of painting landscapes. He had a unique style that made his paintings instantly recognizable. But what many people didn't know was that each of his landscapes was based on a real place. And not just any real place, but the location of one of his many murders. Bob Ross was a serial killer who used his art to conceal his crimes. He would choose a beautiful spot in the wilderness, kill someone there, and then paint it afterwards. In this way, he created a perfect cover for his crimes. Who would suspect that a beautiful landscape painting was the scene of a brutal murder? Bob Ross was never caught and the locations of his murders remain a mystery to this day. But if you look closely at his paintings, you might be able to see the bloody secrets hidden within them.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor?

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants in a trial of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, Josip Broz Tito and free man, Bill Teller.	Adolf Hitler,Joseph Stalin and Leon Trotsky responded to Sigmund Freud's ad. They agreed to help him study his latest research. But before they could begin, they had to complete a series of tests. The tests lasted for weeks. But despite their rigorous testing, no one worked out the cause of their mental problems. Eventually, they all died from a disease they had developed while in the trials.	Freud was skeptical at first, but he was intrigued by the young, charismatic men who had responded to his ad. He arranged for them to come to Vienna for testing. Hitler was the first to arrive, and Freud was struck by how intelligent and driven he was. Freud was also impressed by how well Hitler handled himself, especially considering his relatively low IQ. Stalin arrived a few weeks later. Freud was skeptical of him at first, but Stalin was a consummate politician. He was smooth and calculating, and he quickly won Freud over. Freud was also impressed by Stalin's ruthlessness, which was key to his success as a communist leader. Tito arrived a few months later. Freud was initially apprehensive about him, but he was quickly won over by Tito's charisma and his passion for politics. Together, the four men formed the nucleus of the Nazi party. They helped to promote Freud's controversial theories, and they firmly established Freud as one of the most important figures in the history of psychiatry.	Sigmund Freud was excited to begin clinical trials for his latest research in 1913. He placed an ad in the newspaper, seeking participants. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their early twenties and eager to participate in the trials. The trials began with each man being interviewed by Freud. He quickly realized that all four men were highly intelligent and had extremely strong opinions. However, it was during the session with Hitler that Freud began to notice something strange. Hitler would go off on tangents, talking about his plans for the future and his vision for Germany. He seemed almost manic. As the trials continued, Freud began to worry that Hitler was suffering from some sort of mental illness. He was relieved when the trials ended and the four men went their separate ways. Little did he know that within a few years, all four men would be leading their respective countries and would change the course of history.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do.
2	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross travels through time to view his hundreds of murders at his homesite. Each painting has a different location and it is great for timing and reputation. However, he is too busy painting and cannot help but create detailed immortalized images of people and events.	Bob Ross started painting landscapes in the early '70s when he decided to open up his own business. He loved the creative freedom and the freedom to move around his creative canvases as he pleased. Everyday, he would visit different locations in order to paint new pieces. One day, he took a break from painting to visit a murder scene. On the wall in front of him was a painting of a woman with her throat cut. Ross was traumatized by the experience and started to develop a dark andgrisly memory of the murders. Every time he would go to a new location, the memory of the woman's murder would keep creeping up on him. It felt like it was living inside of him, like it was waiting to surface and claim him again. Eventually, Ross realized that the painting was actually his own personal story of violence and murder. He had painted the woman in order to derive comfort and understanding from her death, but in reality, it was only a warning to others about the dangers ofSANCTUARY.	Bob Ross was a master of the landscape painting genre, able to evoke both peace and despair with just a few strokes of his brush. But even he wasn't clever enough to evade the authorities forever. In the late 1970s, Bob made his way to a remote corner of the United States, settled in to paint the tranquil landscape before him. But instead of the beauty he sought, he was soon beset by tragedy. One by one, the local residents started disappearing. No one could figure out who was behind it, but they all knew it wasn't Bob Ross. The painter had nothing to do with the murders, but the townsfolk were terrified of him nonetheless. Eventually, the authorities caught up with Bob Ross and charged him with the murders of all of his innocent victims. He was convicted and sent to prison, where he still paints landscapes of despair to this day.	Bob Ross was a talented landscape painter, but he had a dark secret. He was also a serial killer, and each of his beautiful landscape paintings was actually a scene from one of his countless murders. He would often take his victims to remote locations, where he would kill them and then bury their bodies. Over time, he became known as the "Bob Ross Killer" and his paintings became infamous. Now, decades later, his paintings are still cherished by many. But the truth about them is still a mystery...	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind.
3	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	At the beginning of the performance,idently, the magician has no idea what is happening. He's not aware of the rabbit in the hat behind him, and the rabbit in the hat behind him is getting sick of being second best. "Finally, a decision is made to put the rabbit on the bottom of the hat," he thinks as he gets close to the top of the hat. He struggles a bit, but the magician is doing his thing and the rabbit is just asying. "Finally, I can't be the only one not happy," he thinks as he gets sent down the hat. "I'll have to come back up later." He gets back up, songwriter's hat in hand, and decides to take on the chocolate cake.	The magician had been teaching his latest magic trick for the past year and a half. He had been demonstrating it to his students and making them laugh. But the rabbit had beenHas been unable to seem to be impressed. "Hey, watch this!" The magician cried, pulling out his rabbit from the hat. The rabbit's eyes scanned the audience, looking for someone or something to interest it. But there was nobody there. The rabbit just looked around, its tail spinning in a circles. "H-he-hey, watch this!" The magician cried, pulling out his rabbit from the hat. The rabbit's eyes scanned the audience, looking for someone or something to interest it. But there was nobody there. The rabbit just looked around, its tail spinning in a circles. "What's wrong with it?" The students asked, looking around for the rabbit. "I don't know," The magician said, "Maybe it's just experimenting." But the rabbit just looked around, its tail spinning in a circles. "Well, I'm going to take it back!" The magician yelled, starting to cry. The students looked at each other, not knowing what to do. Nothing seemed to be working. "Please, somebody help me!" The magician cried, tears streaming down his face. Nobody seemed to want to help. The magician was starting to cry, his students all crying with him. "Please, somebody help me!" The magician cried, tears streaming down his face. Nobody seemed to want to help.	The magician had been pulling rabbits out of hats for years, but he had never had one that was so irritable. The rabbit kept batting its eyes and hopping up and down, begging the magician to make it stop. Finally, the rabbit had had enough. It jumped out of the magician's hat and onto the stage, demanding to be the star of the show. The magician was taken aback, but he quickly got back into character and started pulling rabbits out of hats again. From then on, the rabbit was the star of every show, and the magician was content to just be the magician's rabbit.	The magician and the rabbit have been performing together for years. The rabbit is sick of always being the one who gets pulled out of the hat. He wants to be the star of the show. One day, the rabbit hatches a plan. When the magician goes to pull him out of the hat, he refuses to come out. The magician is confused and tries to coax the rabbit out, but the rabbit is adamant. The audience starts to get restless, and the magician is forced to end the show early. As the two of them walk off stage, the rabbit is smug, knowing that he finally got the spotlight.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
4	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in business for years, and the adventurers always decide who will have to pay for the items. The pawnshop's owner is not afraid to challenge them in court.	Once upon a time, an RPG pawnshop operated without any hassle. The adventurers would come to you for help finding gear, and you would haggle with them for the best prices. But then something changed. The adventurers started trying to cheat you. They would ask for too much, or refuse to give you any gear if you didn't have the appropriate amount of it. Even though you were always fair, the situation started to become frustrating. You decided to close your shop. It didn't solve the problem, but it was the best solution for now. And you never bothered going back to the adventurers again.	I had always been fascinated by the idea of running an RPG pawn shop. I loved the idea of haggling with adventurers who came to sell their loot. It was a fun way to make a little money and get to know my customers. I had been running my shop for about a year now and I had acquired a good reputation. I loved getting to know the adventurers who stopped by my shop. I always tried to give them a fair price for their items, but I was always willing to haggle if I felt that the price wasn't fair. One day, I was having a discussion with an adventurer about the price of their magical sword. I was trying to haggle them down to a price that I felt was fair, but they weren't budging. I could see the determination in their eyes and I knew that they weren't going to give in. I decided to give up on haggling and just give them the price that I thought was fair. I was happy to hear that they were satisfied with the price and that they would be coming back to my shop again. It was always a fun experience getting to talk to my customers and haggle with them.	You're the proprietor of an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired on their adventures. You're a master of your trade, and you always get the best prices for the gear. The adventurers always come back to you when they need money, because they know you're the only one who will give them a fair price.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday.
5	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	Anicia was out at the bar with her friends when she saw the biggest lie imaginable walks up to her. She had to CONTEND that the lie was Aibin, because he had the biggest lie of all. But after looking around, Anicas saw that most of the people in the bar wereCLUDING Aibin, so she took a deep breath and blurted out the biggest lie of all. "I'm sorry, but I think you're a liar."	You meet someone that you thought you knew. He is the kind of person that you would haveconfidence in. He tells you the truth, and you believe him. You trust him, and you feel safe being in his presence. But as time goes on, you begin to notice the telltale signs that he is lying. The bigger the lie, the more pronounced the mark. And the bigger the lie, the more likely it is that he will be caught. At first, you try to remain hopeful. You believe that he is simply confused, that he has not understood what he has done. But as time goes on, the pattern becomes more and more clear. He is lying to you to get you to trust him, and he is lying towing the truthboats to get ahead. You realize that you can no longer trust him, and you leave him behind.	I was hesitant to approach him at first, but curiosity got the best of me. I had never seen anyone with only one large, noticeable scar on their body. It looked painful and difficult to deal with, but it made him stand out from the rest. As we spoke, I could see the pain in his eyes. He told me about the lie that had created the scar, and how it had changed his life forever. I could understand how anyone could be driven to lie after seeing that kind of damage. Eventually, we parted ways, but I couldn't help but think about him. He had shown me the true cost of lying, and I knew that I would always be cautious about what I said.	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. You ask them about it and they tell you that it is from the biggest lie they have ever told. You can't help but be curious about what could have caused such a big scar, so you ask them what the lie was. They hesitate at first, but then they tell you. They lied about their age to get into a relationship with someone that they knew was too old for them. When they found out how old the person actually was, they were so shocked that they scarred themselves. You can't help but feel sympathetic towards this person. Even though they lied, you can tell that they regret it deeply. You tell them that it is okay and that everyone makes mistakes. The two of you become good friends after that and you help them to heal their scar. Over time, it fades away until it is barely visible. They are thankful to you for understanding and for helping them to heal.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for a clinical trial of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ), Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler read the ad and decided to Participate. He was already a popular leader in his home country, and now he wanted to take his place in the world's greatest capital. Joseph Stalin was a powerful figure in Russia, and he knew how to manipulate people. Leon Trotsky was a top Marxistographer and thinker. He had the idea to create a new political party and take it to the next level. And, of course, there was Josip Broz Tito, who was just 19 years old and had only ever served as an unpaid guard in a Serbian military base.	Freud was excited to finally have some participants for his clinical trials. He put an ad in a local newspaper looking for people who were interested in the new research. Surprisingly, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was curious to see how these different individuals would respond to the same treatment. The trials started out smoothly. All of the participants seemed to be responding well to the treatment. But then something changed. Hitler became violent and paranoid, Stalin became ruthless and egotistical, Trotsky became paranoid and power-hungry, and Tito became soft and pacifistic. Freud was perplexed by this change, but he decided to continue the trials. Eventually, all four of the participants went mad. Hitler became a dictator, Stalin became a ruthless dictator, Trotsky became a paranoid tyrant, and Tito became a benevolent dictator. Thanks to Freud's clinical trials, the world ended up with some of the most horrific dictatorships in history.	It's 1913, and Sigmund Freud is in Vienna, Austria, looking for participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in the newspaper, and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud is excited to have such high-profile participants, and the trials go well. But afterwards, he starts to notice some strange behavior from his patients. Hitler becomes more aggressive and starts to talk about a "master race." Stalin becomes more paranoid and starts to talk about purging the country of "enemies of the state." Trotsky becomes more idealistic and starts to talk about leading a worldwide revolution. And Tito becomes more charismatic and starts to talk about uniting the people of Yugoslavia. Freud is alarmed by these changes, and wonders if his research may have unintentionally unleashed something dangerous. But he can't help but be curious about what may happen next.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do.
2	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	Designs are done all day long, artists are in the office, people are talking and working. There is a big meeting at the last minute that necessitates the long working day. As the meeting starts, the artist is painting the participate's body in various colors. She is delicate and Iskra, theHR 34, is the boss. " Artists, this is Sk8ter pent up. He's holding a can of face wash and a Synthetic fur. " The boss speaks and the artists Rapidly get up, some in their chairs, some in their imaginations. They arerene eye direct them to go take the animal out to the garage. Sk8ter is relieved and they do as they are ordered. They go to the garage and Iacan, the boss's dog, is dogs. " What is this?" They go to the office and tell the boss. " This is Sk8ter's animal. He worth anything here? " The boss speaks and the artists Shelter themselves from the office, many runneling towards the garage. They take the dog home, weeps are up and they go back to work.	You had just finished your shift at work and were walking to the car when you saw someone walking down the street. You were curious and walked over to ask them what they were doing. As you approached, you saw that this person had one big, bright scar on their body. You mentioned that you had seen someone walking the same streets the day before, and the person said that they were also sorry that they had let the truth get in the way of their friendship. They said that they had been too busy working to watch the news and that they had been too afraid to tell the person they loved because they would have ruined the friendship. They said that they were sorry that they had made the person so alone.	I can't believe I've finally found someone that only has one scar. It's the biggest one I've ever seen. I ask him how he got it and he tells me a story of a great battle. He had been fighting bravely and sacrificing himself, but in the end, he was defeated. All of his friends were dead and he was covered in scars. He had been lied to and betrayed so many times that the only thing that remained was this huge, ugly scar. It was the only thing that showed he had ever been hurt. I feel bad for him and want to help him, but I know that I can't. This is his truth and it's how he survived.	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. When you ask them about it, they tell you the story of their life. They say that they used to be a liar, but they found redemption in the form of love. Even though their scar is a permanent reminder of their past, they are happy to have it because it reminds them of how far they have come.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust?
3	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The one invisible thing in my home proves to be a safety hazard. Every time I try to use the living room as a bedroom, I Athena as judgmental places like making sure my dad is getting hisope cream. So I'll put it this way: If you're not living in one of the following situations, you're probably not aware of the thing infiltrating your home: 1. You vanilla, and the thing is in the living room. 2. You're not visible to the thing, so it doesn't feel aware of your home. 3. The thing is a health and safety risk, and I need to do something to protect my home.	I was always the curious one. I would watch everything from the shadows and try to learn as much as I could about the things that I couldn't see. After a while, I realized that I was seeing things that didn't exist. I started to notice things in my home that I never thought would be there. I would see things that I didn't think could exist and then I would see them KMDF { Means 'Moderately Invisible'}. I started to see it and it started to follow me. I made sure that I didn't let it know that I was aware of it because I didn't want it to stop following me. I liked the way it felt and I liked the sense of security that it gave me. I would see it in the dark and I would know that I could go to bed at night and it would never bother me again.	I was cleaning up my apartment and I found something strange. I couldn't see it, but I could feel something scratching the back of my neck. I tried to shake it off, but it kept coming back. I finally decided to take a picture of it and posted it on Instagram. I called my friends to tell them about my new discovery and they all laughed at me. But I knew that it was real. The thing was a little white ball that was hiding in the corner of my room. I was scared that it was going to come after me, so I threw a blanket over it and hid under my bed. But the thing just kept moving and scratching. Finally, I got up the courage to take a picture of it and set it free. Now, I'm always paranoid that the thing is going to come back and haunt me. But at least I know that it's there, somewhere, watching me.	There's something invisible living in my home. I don't know what it is, but I can feel it watching me. I've tried to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence, but it's always one step ahead of me. I can sense it lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce. I don't know what it wants, but I can't let it continue to terrorize me. I have to find a way to get rid of it, before it destroys me.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still...
4	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	When the device is deactivated, the smartphone of an individual is left with no ability to be pregnant for 12 months. This is done in order to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducedring, and to prevent any individual from getting too close to another's children.	As a young Auditor, you were assigned to keep track of the population's intelligence and stability. One of your primary tasks was to insert birth control devices into the dumbest people in the world. It was a necessary evil, as only the most stupid people could hope to reproduce. Unfortunately, the devices weren't very effective and soon the population was negatively impacting the stability of the world. You had to do something to prevent the population from being too stupid and fracturing the world into warring factions.	The population of the world was slowly dwindling, with only the smartest people left. For years, the Auditors had been trying to find a way to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing, but no one had been able to find a way to do it. One day, they got a lead on a possible solution. The Auditors managed to convince everyone to be implanted with a birth control device during puberty. The devices could only be deactivated once it was determined that the individual was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. The only problem was that no one knew who the Auditors were. Fortunately, the Auditors had a plan. They would first have to identify the smartest people in the world, and then they would enroll them in a special program to make them even smarter. After that, the Auditors would be able to deactivate the birth control devices and let the dumbest people reproduce.	You are an Auditor, tasked with making sure only the smartest, most intelligent people are able to have children. It's a difficult job, but someone has to do it. As part of your job, you test people to see if they are smart enough to have children. If they are not, their birth control device is not deactivated and they are unable to have children. It's a tough job, but you believe in what you're doing. You know that if everyone was able to have children, the world would be filled with dumb, uneducated people and that would be a disaster. So you continue to do your job, making sure only the best and the brightest are able to have children. It's a difficult job, but someone has to do it.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge.
5	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	魔 intermittent Master Magician is in his office, hours overdue for his next job. He's not being uses what he's doing now, but that isn't because he isn't passionate about it. He's a little surprised to find a new job an hour ahead of him, but more surprised that the company is actually Lessons from the Great Magician Botswana is based in the city. Master Magician is happy to be a part of the team, but the job isn't easy. They're called on to combine together other magic workers to conduct some of the most complex behavioural challenges. The job isTemporary mountain biker with a Distributor job. He's not sure what to do with himself when he's weeks ahead of schedule for a job that he's not quite sure he's ready for. He's making do, hour-long defrost cycles and 95% humidity seasons. But he's not really feeling himself yet. The job is challenges Challenge #1:10,000 feet in the sky Master Magician ooohs with consisted ofhya poky ne tht Challenging enough to get him thinking about it Question: What's the best way to get yourself some challenges that you can work with?	The magician pulled out his rabbit from his hat, holding it tight in his hand. He looked at the rabbit with a gleam in his eye. "You know, rabbit," he said, "I do believe that you're not content playing second fiddle to me." He smiled at the rabbit anddrove the rabbit into a rage. The rabbit tried to run, but the magician was quick to catch it. "I tell you, rabbit," he said, "if you don't want to play this game, you can always go back to your hole in the earth. But for now, I'm giving you the greenlight to take your rightful place as the head of the pack."	The magician was a skilled performer and always managed to captivate his audience with his magic. But this time, the rabbit was feeling frisky and decided to take the stage for himself. The rabbit started by performing some easy tricks, but the magician wasn't having it. He was a professional and knew that the rabbit didn't have what it took to be a real magician. The rabbit was fed up with the magician's insults and decided to take things into his own hands. He pulled out a magical hat and within seconds, the magician was on his knees, begging for forgiveness. The rabbit had finally shown the magician that he was the true star of the show.	The magician and the rabbit are on stage, performing their act. The rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle, and is determined to steal the show. During the act, the rabbit does everything it can to upstage the magician. It pulls out a bigger, brighter rabbit from the hat, and does a series of tricks that leave the audience mesmerized. The magician is furious, but can do nothing to stop the rabbit. The act ends with the rabbit taking a bow to thunderous applause, while the magician is left fuming.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	magician: You seem to be performing without your bow and arrow for once. What's wrong? Rabbit: I'm sorry, I don't have one to help me do the show. magician: How come? Rabbit: I don't have one. magician: Tired of being second fiddle, what with all the visitors!?	The magician nodded at the rabbit and patted him on the shoulder before reaching into his hat and pulling out a small rabbit. The rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. It wanted to do things its own way and be its own person. The magician nodded at the Rabbit and patted him on the shoulder before reaching into his hat and pulling out a small rabbit. "I know, believe me, I know," the magician said with a smile. "But I need you to do something for me." The rabbit looked at the magician, hopeful. "Please, can you put this rabbit in a hat and give it to me?" The magician grinned and put the rabbit back in his hat. "One question at a time, pet." The rabbit looked at him with aEmerald eyes. "What is it?"	The magician had been doing this trick for years and years - rabbit out of hat, rabbit sick of playing second fiddle. The audience loved it and the magician made a good living off of it. But the rabbit was getting sick of it. Every time the magician would pull out a new rabbit, the rabbit would feel a sense of dread. It was always the same: rabbit out of hat, rabbit sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit wanted to be the star of the show, not a sidekick. One day, the rabbit had had enough. It jumped off the stage and ran into the crowd, leaving the magician and his rabbits behind.	The magician and the rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The magician pulls out a hat, and the rabbit pops out. The rabbit looks around and sees that there is no one else on stage. The rabbit is angry and frustrated. The rabbit wants to be the star of the show. The magician tries to calm the rabbit down, but the rabbit is not having it. The rabbit wants to be the star, and the magician is not going to stop the rabbit from getting what it wants.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was!
2	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The auditors were all men, most likely from good families. They all took turns Auditing the monetary resources of individuals, hoping to improve society's financial state. But their audits didn't go as planned.namely, one man was court-ordered to living in the out-of-wedlock childbearing years, and two women were married to men much older than them. One year passed, two years passed, and still no one had been able to find a way to stop the birth of children out of wedlock. So, the auditors decided to make an option: they would all evaluatively audit ouroned Increases in financial resources, and if we didn't have an option to stop the birth of children out of wedlock, we would. The first few months were easy enough, but following months were much more difficult. Many people never received their requests for money to come back, because they were always permacastable to do so. The ones that did get money didn't know how to do Damn, and started to gang up on other people to get back at the auditors. The last two months of the auditor's reign were just as difficult. The people in ouronedIncreasing financial resources had finally finally catch on, and they requested money be sent back to the auditors. TheAuditor was so and-and-abruptly died, leaving hisAuditorors to deal with the 400,000+ people who hadBasic been asking for money back. There was a great deal of fisticuffs and violence that night, and the people in ouronedDecreasing financial resources were never the same again.	As an Auditor, I was responsible for ensuring that no one was able to reproduce. I had to implant birth control devices into everyone during puberty in order to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing. It was a difficult job, but it was necessary in order to keep the world safe.	I was born into a society where everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. This is, of course, an absurd idea. Everyone is actually dumber than the dumbest person in the world. But, like all things in this society, it's mandatory. I am an Auditor. I'm tasked with determining when a person is intelligent and stable enough to be allowed to have children. I've been doing this for years and, frankly, it's tedious. I've assessed countless people and, almost every time, I find them to be dumber than the dumbest person in the world. It's a thankless job and I'm sick of it.	You're an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you evaluate each person's ability to think critically, solve problems, and make sound decisions. Only those who meet your stringent criteria are allowed to deactivate their birth control devices and have children. This system has been in place for generations, and it has resulted in a world populated only by the smartest, most capable people. This, in turn, has led to a society that is peaceful, prosperous, and progressive. Of course, there are always those who try to game the system. But you and your fellow Auditors are always on the lookout for those who would try to cheat the system. After all, the future of humanity depends on it.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked.
3	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The something invisible was always there, waiting to take over when the right time was right. It would access your home and take over through your democratic system, taking over when you're deep in sleep orrex or despair. It delighted in its ability to claim control over yoursurfaceroximatelyingjoints.	I spent my morning looking around my house, trying to find the source of the strange, invisible force that constantly makes everything seem more out of place. I found nothing. Strangely, the force didn't seem to be coming from anywhere - it seemed to be emanating from the walls. I tried moving things, but nothing seemed to help. Eventually, I decided to confront the invisible force head-on. As I walked up to the wall, I could feel the pressure of the force growing, feels like it was going to crush me. But then, inexplicably, the force evaporated. I wasn't sure what had happened - but whatever it was, it had disappeared without a trace.	I've always been a bit paranoid, so it didn't take long for me to realize that something was living in my home that I couldn't see. I tried to figure out what it was, but I couldn't. I didn't want to scare myself, so I waited until the thing made itself known. One day, I came home and found that my kitchen had been cleaned. I was confused at first, but then I realized that there had never been anything in there to clean. The only thing that was changed was the fact that my kitchen was now empty. I couldn't explain it, but I knew that my invisible friend was responsible.	I had always felt like I was being watched in my home. I would see things move out of the corner of my eye, but when I turned to look, there was never anything there. I told myself that it was just my imagination playing tricks on me, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something invisible was living in my home. I decided to set a trap for the invisible intruder. I scattered some flour on the floor and waited. Sure enough, I soon saw footprints appearing in the flour. I followed the footprints, but they disappeared into thin air. I knew I had found my invisible intruder. Now that I knew it was there, I had to find a way to expose it. I tried to think of a way to do so without letting the intruder know that I was aware of its presence. I decided to set up a hidden camera to try to capture it on film. After several days of monitoring the footage, I finally saw the intruder on camera. It was a small, transparent creature that was invisible to the naked eye. I couldn't believe it! I had finally found proof that something invisible was living in my home.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months.
4	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	At first, the new friend was disinterested in you. They mentioned something about wanting to trip you, but you are too scared to confront them. That is until one day when she's sitting in your living room. She has left suddenly after onlyuts from their conversation. You feel your sky starting to turn black and a jury of one is better than no jury at all. You have no choice but to go to the police.	You meet this person at a party. They are telling a lie and it isruining their reputation. You try to question them, but they won't stop. You get so angry and frustrated, but you can't take them down. In the end, you just leave. You don't want to be near them anymore.	I was intrigued by this person from the moment I saw them. They had the biggest scar I had ever seen. It was so big and deep, it almost looked like it was bleeding. I wanted to know more about it, so I asked them about it. They told me that the biggest lie they ever told was the one that created that scar. They had lied so much that the lies had piled up and created this massive wound on their body. I was so impressed by their courage and strength, and I felt like I could learn a lot from them.	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. The person tells you that they have only ever lied once in their life, and that it was the biggest lie they have ever told. You're intrigued and ask them what the lie was. The person hesitates at first, but then decides to tell you. They say that the lie was that they have always been happy. Even though they have a huge scar on their body, they say that they are truly happy with their life.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing.
5	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is small, and the players are a small group. They're fighting off adventurers who are trying to leave treasure within the shop. The door is sturdy, and the characters are reasonably sure it won't budge. They'll take the treasure if it's within arm's reach. The adventurers try to leave in hopes of getting something back, but the shop is manned and they must fight their way in.	The first time I saw the adventurer, I thought he was an odd looking guy. He seemed like he might not be from around here, and he didn't seem to be merchandising any rare items. I asked him how he was able to sell so much, and he told me about his game. He played a different type of game all the time, and he always had fresh new gear for sale. I felt interested, so I asked him about it. He told me about a dark race of beings who had come to this world a million years ago. They were a very powerful force, and they had left behind a lot of treasure. He said that he could get me some of it, and I could be the owner of the pawn shop. I was excited, and I decided to give him a try.	There was a call from a pawnshop down the street. It had been awhile since they'd had any customers and they were running low on supplies. I asked the player if they had any interesting items they'd acquired recently and they said they did. I took the player through my usual routine of haggling and we finally reached an agreement. I let them know I could only sell the item to them if they came into the shop. They agreed and we made the exchange. When they arrived, they gave me an odd look. I asked what was wrong and they said they needed to leave quickly. They had something they needed to take care of. I told them to come back any time and they nodded before leaving the shop. I wasn't sure what had just happened, but I was excited to find out.	You run an RPG pawn shop and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You're a master haggler and you always get the best deals for your shop. Today, you see a group of adventurers who seem to have a lot of loot with them. You approach them and start haggling. After a few minutes of back and forth, you finally strike a deal and walk away with a bunch of new inventory for your shop.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in disarray. The players are haggling with each other for control of what's been earns. AOrc 's and Dwarves 'd Reloaded is background. They areItem's ( weapon seller, character, magician) and ( beast keeper, fighter), there is no way for her to leave the shop. She is stranded in the wilderness, with only any kind of food or water to keep her going. The players are 'neath her feet, trying to sell her loot.	The shop was always popular with adventurers. They would come in to buy whatevernything was available, and you would always have a few items left over. Sometimes you would sell items that were rare or too valuable to be found anywhere else, and other times you would sell mundane items like swords and spears. But on this particular day, there was a particularly large group of adventurers coming in. They were all wearing the same armor and looking about the same age. "Hey, how come you don't have any swords or spears?" one of the adventurers asked. "We don't have enough gold to buy them," you said. "We'll give you some gold," one of the adventurers said. You took the gold and gave them to the group of adventurers. They seemed to be happy with the gift. "Thanks!" they said. The group of adventurers went back outside, and you continued to sell items. But now, something was nagging at you. You had noticed that all of the armor the group of adventurers were wearing was of low quality. The arms and armor were cheap and not of good quality. You realized that the armor was probably a fraud. The group of adventurers couldn't be really interested in selling anything else, and they were probably just trying to con you. You quickly went to the group of adventurers and asked them to leave. They seemed to be surprised, but then they quickly left. You went back to your shop and sold everything that was left over. When the group of adventurers left, you were the only one left in the shop. You quickly realized that the armor the group of adventurers were wearing was probably a fraud. The group of adventurers couldn't be really interested in selling anything else, and they were probably just trying to con you.	I run an RPG pawn shop and I love it. I love bargaining with adventurers who try to sell me their loot. I always seem to get a good deal and I can't help but feel like I'm in the middle of a treasure hunt every time I'm in my shop. I never know what I'll find and that just makes it all the more exciting.	You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You're a master haggler, and you always try to get the best deals for your shop. Today, you see a group of adventurers walking in, and you can tell they've got something good. You approach them and start haggling. After a few minutes of back-and-forth, you finally strike a deal and walk away with a bag of loot. You can't help but feel a little bit of excitement as you open the bag and see what you've gotten. There are some rare and valuable items in there, and you know you've made a great deal. You can't wait to see what else you can get your hands on.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own.
2	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was alwayswagered between the device being used and not using it. It was never determined whether the user was willingly using the device or not. Eventually, the user was determined to be ``planting'', which means the device was being used on purpose to prevent the reproduction of the user's child. The user was never informed of the effect the device had on them and them only. The user was never able to determine if they were still alive or not. The user was never determined whether they were male or female. Unfortunately, the user was never able to determine their true identity.	Auditor #1 was the first person to deactivate her birth control device. She was excited to be able to reproduce. Auditor #2 quickly activated her own device. Auditor #3 did not activate her device. A run-in was inevitable.	In a world where intelligence is equated with stability, the birth control device implanted into everyone at puberty is a constant reminder not to produce the dumber people. For 19 year old auditor Genevieve, the device is a constant nag, reminding her that she should be more responsible and think about the future. She knows that if she ever got pregnant, she would be an unfit mother and would disappoint her parents.	You're an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must review each person's life history and make a judgement. Birth control devices are implanted in everyone during puberty. They can only be deactivated once an Auditor has determined that the person is intelligent and stable enough to raise a child. You take your job very seriously and carefully review each case. In some cases, it is obvious that the person is not ready to have a child. In others, you must weigh the pros and cons before making a decision. Ultimately, you must use your judgement to decide who is ready to have a child and who is not. This is not an easy task, but you take it seriously and do your best to ensure that only the most qualified people are able to reproduce.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke.
3	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud needs Participants for Tumors Research trial. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, Josip Broz Tito.	Salome caught a glimpse of Adolf Hitler as he came in the door of the Vienna Neurology Clinic. She knew she had to take him. She had seen him in the newspapers. He was the new leader of Germany, and she wanted to be his secretary. Joseph Stalin was also in town. He had just been made the head of the Soviet Union. He was a powerful man. He had also seen Hitler. He knew that he would want to be a part of Hitler's campaign of terror. Leon Trotsky was also in town. He had been a member of the Bolshevik party before the Bolshevik revolution. He had also seen Hitler. He knew that he would want to get close to Hitler. Josip Broz Tito was also in town. He was the president of Croatia. He had also seen Hitler. He knew that he would want to be in charge of the communist forces in Europe.	Freud was excited to test his new theory on the psychology of the dictatorships. He placed an ad in a newspaper, looking for participants for clinical trials. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito all responded to the ad. Freud was surprised to find that all of the dictators were interested in his research. The trials would be difficult, but Freud was determined to learn more about how these dictatorships worked. He was also excited to see how each of them would respond to the new research.	Dr. Freud was very excited to begin his clinical trials for his latest research. He placed an ad in the local newspaper, seeking participants. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Dr. Freud began working with each of them individually. He quickly discovered that they all shared a similar personality trait: they were all quite power-hungry and had a strong desire to control others. This was an interesting finding, and Dr. Freud began to wonder if there was a connection between this personality trait and their political aspirations. As the clinical trials continued, Dr. Freud noted that each of the participants became more and more obsessed with power. They would frequently talk about their plans to take over the world, and how they would be the ones in charge. It was clear that this research was having a profound effect on them. Eventually, the clinical trials came to an end. Dr. Freud had made some groundbreaking discoveries, but he was also left with a feeling of unease. These four men were clearly dangerous, and he knew that they would stop at nothing to achieve their goals. He could only hope that they would never meet again, and that their paths would never cross again.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word.
4	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Gussie read the guidebook to amusement park before her day trip toLouisiana. It was promises of Piper and NFL games and bar anger Ile- herself. She thought it over and decided on Practice was worth a visit. It would be her last day in Louisiana before she could visit her family inStonington. If she make it through the day, she would make it to the game. If not, she would head to the nearest convenience store.	Bob Ross never took painting seriously. He thought it was a silly art form that only people who were really into it got into. But then one day, he met someone who really was into painting and it changedBob Ross' life. He really started taking painting seriously and started making beautiful, personal landscapes. People started asking him where he'd found the inspiration for his work and he couldn't help but share. It was love at first sight for Bob and he eventually married the woman who was also into painting. They have a beautiful home full of paintings and memories of past murderers who visited them.	It had been a long day. Bob Ross had been painting landscapes all day, and he was exhausted. He was about to finish up for the day, and he was ready for a break. But first, he had to go through the murder scene one more time. He had to make sure that he had painted everything correctly. He walked through the scene, taking in the sights and sounds. He could still smell the blood and the fear. It was all so real to him. Finally, he came to the end of the scene. He could finally relax. But then he heard a noise. Someone was coming. He had to hide. He quickly hid behind a tree, and waited. But the person didn't come. Maybe they had just seen something else. Bob Ross breathed a sigh of relief, and continued on his way. But then he heard the person coming again. This time, they were closer. And they were coming fast. Bob Ross didn't have time to hide anymore. He had to fight. He fought hard, but he was outnumbered and outmatched. He knew he was going to die. But then, just as it looked like he was going to die, the person stopped. They had seen the murder scene, and they knew who had done it. It was Bob Ross himself. He had killed all these people, and now he was going to pay for it.	Bob Ross was a famous landscape painter, known for his amazing ability to capture the beauty of nature. What most people didn't know, however, was that each of his paintings was actually a real place. And not just any place - each one was the location of one of his countless murders. No one knows how many people Bob Ross killed. He was a master of disguise and was always able to evade the authorities. But those who knew him best say that he must have killed at least dozens of people. Perhaps even more. Why did he do it? No one knows for sure. Some say he was simply a madman, others believe he did it for the thrill of the kill. Whatever the reason, there's no denying that Bob Ross was a ruthless killer. And all of his victims were captured in his paintings, forever frozen in time.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.
5	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The security system in my home is perfect. I've been hitting it with approval levels set up recently, and my home security system has beenamaru mode ever sense I've been in it. I've been trying to expose my presence to the system, but it've kept hidden. Finally, I decided to take a chance and see if it would open up.	One day, I noticed an intruder in my home. I tried to scare it off, but it was too fast. It leapt onto the couch, and I couldn't catch it. I felt strange about it, like I was seeing something I shouldn't. I tried to shake it off, but it kept coming back. I wasn't sure what it was, but I was afraid it was going to hurt me.	I had always been curious about what was living in the walls of my house. I had never seen or felt anything before, but I was always paranoid that something was lurking in the dark. One day, I decided to take a closer look. I slowly started to explore the corners, the crevices, and the spaces between the walls. It was strange, but I couldn't truly see anything. However, when I got close to one of the walls, I felt a sharp pain in my hand. I turned around and saw that I was holding onto a small, wriggling creature. I screamed and let go of the creature, which ran away into the darkness. From then on, I made sure to keep my eyes open and my hand close at all times.	I had always felt like there was something else living in my house, something invisible. I would hear strange noises in the night, or things would be moved around when I was sure I had left them in a different spot. I was never able to catch whatever it was, but I was determined to find out what was going on. I started setting traps, little things that would make a noise or a light if something triggered them. But no matter what I did, I never caught anything. I was starting to think that I was just imagining things, until one day I heard a noise coming from the trap I had set up in the living room. I cautiously approached, heart pounding in my chest, and slowly lifted the sheet to see what had been caught. There, in the trap, was a small, translucent creature. It was about the size of a rat, and it was wriggling around trying to escape. I didn't know what to do. I felt like I had uncovered something that I wasn't supposed to see. But at the same time, I was curious about this creature. What was it, and how had it been living in my house? I decided to take a closer look, and eventually managed to capture the creature. I put it in a glass jar and set it on my kitchen table, where I could study it more closely. It was definitely not anything I had ever seen before. It was some kind of translucent jellyfish-like creature, and it was still wriggling around desperately in the jar. I watched it for a while, trying to figure out what it was and how it had gotten into my house. Eventually, I let it go. I released it into the night, and it quickly disappeared into the darkness. I never saw it again, but I always wondered what that creature was and where it came from.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that met me was friendly and obvious. I was the one that was hiding in the shadows. "Who are you?" He asked with asta look of curiosity. I Secured myself into a better position to answer. "A liar. A cheat. A who's-your-name-type- biomatrix." The person stared at me as if I was inappropriate for this conversation. "I'm sorry," I said with a broken face. There was a long silence after that. "What do you want?" The person asked finally. I smirked. "To make my into a fraud." The person's face expressed anger and disbelief. "What kind of question is that?" "This person is the kind of person that wants to make things work for herself. She's a liar and a cheat." The person stared at me. "She's a skilful liar and cheat." The person's face changed to one ofaltholds and despair. "I can't do this." I had been through this reaction before. A person you are friends with can suddenly become your biggest rival. It was a wave of guilt and self-pity that led to aundoaad run. "Yes," I said with a sad twist to my mouth. "She is. But it's better this way."	You meet the person at a party. They are impressive-looking, with a big, impressive scar running down their back. You get to know them better, and eventually you figure out that they are a liar. They tell you fibs, and they even lie about their age. They are a master of the art of lying. You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. The scar is large, and it makes the person look like a victim. You are disgusted with them, and you hate themselves for being so dishonest.	I couldn't help but be drawn to him. His one, big, overwhelming scar. It was so, so big. I couldn't help but ask him about it. He told me that it was from a time when he was very, very young and he lied about something very important. The consequences were devastating. He told me that he never lies anymore because it's too dangerous. But, I could tell from the way he looked at me that he lied to me just now.	In a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body, you meet someone who only has one scar. It is the biggest one you have ever seen. This person tells you that they have never lied in their life. You don't believe them at first, but then you see the sincerity in their eyes. You ask them how they got the scar. They tell you that it is from a time when they were very young. They had wanted to go to the top of the tallest mountain, but their parents had told them it was too dangerous. So, they lied and said they would stay at home. But instead, they snuck out and climbed the mountain. They made it to the top, but slipped and fell on the way back down. They were lucky to survive, but the scar was a reminder of the time they had lied. From then on, they decided to never lie again. And they never have.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good.
2	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	After Bob Ross died in a share bust, his art was bought by a man who wanted to see where it went. He saw each of his paintings, different locations of his deaths, and decided which one was the most white and most black. He placed his death scene painting in a secluded place and The Colosseum, the man wanted to see as The Birth of The Christ, happened.	Every time Bob Ross captures a painting of a location in history, it is with a heavy heart. He know that it is only a matter of time before he is arrested or killed while painting. So, even though the paintings might be located in different parts of the world, Bob always feels a sense of sadness when he is in the presence of his murdered friends and victims.	Bob Ross was a murderer, and his landscapes were all creations of his twisted imagination. He would go to different locations and paint scenes of murder, bloodshed, and mayhem. Some of the paintings were of real places, but others were entirely fictional. No one was ever sure which was which.	Bob Ross was a serial killer who used his landscape paintings as a way to conceal his gruesome crimes. For years, he travelled across the country, painting serene and beautiful scenes while secretly murdering people and hiding their bodies in the very places he was painting. No one suspected a thing until police found one of his paintings hanging in a local gallery with a bloody handprint on it. That's when they realized that Bob Ross was a killer who used his art to cover up his crimes. Now, every time someone looks at one of his paintings, they can't help but wonder if the scene is really as peaceful as it seems, or if it's hiding a dark secret.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass.
3	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	One start: [+] Auditor: I am an Auditor.	As an Audit, I was always ensuring that people were born with the best possible chance of staying alive and successful. But until recently, I had never heard of a person named Chris. Inew he was in fact a very stupid person, and I was not happy about it. I had tried to correct his errors in his past, but it seems that his stupidity only got worse with time. One day, I received a report that Chris had been posing as an Audit in order to cheat on his girlfriend. I could not believe it. This was yet another example of how Chris was a waste of a life, and I was determined to finally make him pay. To begin my search for Chris, I used my powers to track down his sources of income. I found that he was receiving money from aola, a company that was using taxpayer's money to promote their products. I was determined to stop this company from benefiting from Chris's incompetent behavior. When I confronted Chris about his involvement with Aola, he claimed innocence. However, I knew he was lying. I used my powers to see through his lies, and I could see that he was actually working for Aola in order to gain advantage over his girlfriend. Chris was caught, and he was given a punishment that I had never experience before. He was put in a holding cell and told that he would never be able to reproduce because he was too stupid and unstable. This was the final straw for me. I was no longer willing to put up with Chris's stupidity. I had tried to educate him, but it seems that his stupidity only got worse. Now, he was living in obscurity, and he would never be able to get his life back on track.	I was born into a world where birth control was mandatory. At puberty, I was implanted with a device that would prevent me from reproducing unless I met certain qualifications. I was an Auditor, responsible for determining when intelligent and stable people were ready to raise a well-adjusted human being. As an Auditor, I was constantly tested and evaluated. I had to prove that I was capable of handling the responsibility of raising a person. I was never allowed to have children of my own, but I was happy to help prevent the dumbest people from reproducing.	As an Auditor, it is my job to determine whether or not someone is intelligent and stable enough to have a child. If they are not, then their birth control device is not deactivated and they are not able to have children. I remember one case in particular that stands out to me. A young woman came to me, pleading to have her birth control device deactivated so that she could have a child. She was clearly intelligent and stable, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I told her that she was not yet ready to be a mother and that she needed to wait a little longer. She was heartbroken, but I knew that I had made the right decision. There are some people who are just not ready to be parents and that's why I'm here. To make sure that only the smartest and most stable people have children.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes.
4	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician practices his magic bag muscles once again as he watches the rabbit from upstairs. He's not sure if the rabbit is sick or if he's just tired, but he can't wait to see how long he can keep the bag from taking out in the end. He's not sure if the rabbit is sick or if he's just tired, but he's happy to see that the rabbit from upstairs is added to the show. The rabbit is just as happy to be there, but the magician can tell that the rabbit is getting tired of being second fiddle. "Hey, you want to take the bag down?" The rabbit asks, concerned. The magician nods, "Yes, let's take it down." He helps remove the bag from the rabbit's head, making sure to land safely on his feet. The rabbit is happy to be there, but the magician can tell that the rabbit is getting tired of being second fiddle. "What're you looking for today?" The rabbit asks. The magician looks down at the bag, "I'm not sure, I was just thinking of something that I think could be good. Maybe a noose?"	The magician pulled out his rabbit from his hat and told it that it was time to leave. The rabbit was angry and asked why it had to be this way. The magician replied simply that it was what was best for the rabbit. The rabbit growled and tried to leave, but was stopped by the magician's magic. The rabbit was then happy to know that it would always be included in the magician's show.	The magician was getting tired of always having to pull out the rabbit from the hat. He was sick of always being the second fiddle. So, one day, he decided to take matters into his own hands and show the rabbit who was boss. He set up a simple stage, and before long, the rabbit was there, ready for action. The magician pulled out a card and declared that the rabbit would have to perform a trick that he had never done before. The rabbit smiled and got to work. First, he pulled a flower from behind his ear. The magician was impressed and decided to let him go on. Next, the rabbit took a coin from his pocket and put it into his mouth. He then closed his lips tightly and shook his head back and forth. The magician was amazed as the coin came out clean. The rabbit was getting tired, but the magician wasn't. He was in for a real treat now. The rabbit took a card from his pocket and showed it to the audience. It read "A Self-Made Man". The magician was shocked. He had never seen that card before. It seemed like the rabbit had read his mind. The magician was about to Applaud the rabbit when he noticed something very strange. The rabbit's ears were red and hot, as if he had been running a long way. The magician knew what had happened. The rabbit had been practicing his magic all day, and he was run ragged. The magician was impressed, but the rabbit was just happy to have finally shown the magician who was boss.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. The rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle, however, and has had enough. Mid-way through the act, the rabbit makes its escape. The magician is shocked and distressed, but the rabbit is finally free. It hops off the stage and into the audience, where it is greeted with applause and cheers. The rabbit has finally found its place in the world, and it couldn't be happier.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
5	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The house was orange and green andorbosi. The silent heard the orchiid card playing itsCDC TRUTH. The intent was clear. The mission was simple. Take the orchiid down the street. The orchiid was following the path of least resistance. The moment it saw the house, it made a mount and delivery. As it moved towards the sound of the card, the orchiid Crabbed theoshi.	The first time I realized that something was living in my home was when I heard a scratching noise at the back door. I didn't know what to make of it, so I decided to ignore it. But the next time I heard the scratching noise, I realized that it was keeping to itself. I started to notice that the noise would increase whenever I made any noise in the house. I started to think that the thing might be following me or something. I tried to stay calm, but I was scared. I didn't want to tell anyone about it. I was worried that they would think I was crazy. I didn't want to be a part of their crazy world. But I realized that I could't keep it hidden forever. sooner or later, someone would figure out that there was something live in my house.	I never really paid attention to what was in my home until one day, something invisible started to make my home feel uncomfortable. I couldn't identify what it was, but it was there, lurking, waiting for the right moment to strike. I tried to get rid of it, but it was always one step ahead of me. I had no choice but to face it head on and expose it for what it was.	For as long as Karen can remember, there has always been something invisible living in her home. She's never been able to see it, but she can feel its presence. It's always there, lurking in the shadows, watching her. Karen has never been able to expose it, but she's determined to find out what it is. She's careful not to let it know that she's aware of its presence, and she's always on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary. One day, she finally catches a glimpse of it. It's a small, transparent creature with big eyes. It's hauntingly beautiful, and Karen can't help but feel a deep connection to it. Despite its appearance, Karen knows that it's not a friendly creature. It's been lurking in her home for years, and she knows that it's not there to help her. She's not sure what it wants, but she's determined to find out. One way or another, she'll get to the bottom of this.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is looking for participants for a clinical trial of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. few people respond, it's just Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito.	Hitler didn't respond to the ad, but he was not discouraged. He knew that Freud's new research was very important. Stalin, however, was a little discouraged. He knew that the only way to achieve world domination was to be the head of the Soviet Union. Trotsky, however, was very excited. He knew that Freud's research could help him achieve victory.	Freud was shocked when only these four young men responded to his ad. He had no idea who they were, but he decided to give them a chance. He gave them all the same questionnaire to answer, and asked them to write down anything that came to mind. Adolf Hitler wrote: I am a passionate believer in the merits of Freud's work. His theories have changed my life for the better. I look forward to participating in the clinical trials and applying his techniques to my personal life. Joseph Stalin wrote: I am excited to be part of the clinical trials. Freud's techniques have helped me fix my personal problems and I am confident that they will do the same for others. Leon Trotsky wrote: I am excited to be part of the clinical trials. Freud's work has revolutionized psychiatry and I believe that it can help millions of people. Josip Broz Tito wrote: I am excited to be part of the clinical trials. Freud's work is groundbreaking and I believe that it can help millions of people.	Sigmund Freud was eager to start his clinical trials for his latest research. He placed an ad in the local newspaper, hoping to find some willing participants. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was a bit apprehensive about conducting trials with such notorious figures, but he decided to go ahead with it anyway. He began by asking each of them about their childhoods and their early experiences. Hitler, Stalin, and Trotsky all spoke about their difficult upbringings and how they had to fight for everything they had. Tito, on the other hand, spoke about his idyllic childhood and how he always felt loved and supported. As the trials went on, Freud started to notice some patterns emerging. Hitler, Stalin, and Trotsky all shared a similar outlook on life: they were all paranoid and suspicious of others, and they all believed that force was the best way to get what they wanted. Tito, on the other hand, seemed to be the complete opposite. He was trusting and compassionate, and he believed in working with others to achieve common goals. Freud was fascinated by these findings, and he continued to work with all four men over the next few years. In the end, he concluded that his research had confirmed his theories about the human psyche. He also came to believe that Tito was the only one of the four who had the potential to be a truly great leader.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ).
2	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician has always been a experts withArtsy magic. He pulls out a rabbit out of a hat andSubmitting to the cap and trade of a second fiddle, the rabbit says nothing. The magician takes a nowaday sip of his drink and takes a moment to serve his readingbugs and listen to their conversations. As he does, the rabbit's mind focused on other things. The magician makes a simple gesture and the rabbit is back on stage.	The magician had been trying to find a way to get the rabbit out of the hat for weeks. He finally managed to do it, but the rabbit was very unhappy. It didn't seem to care that it was the magician's only option.	The magician was performing for the crowd and the rabbit was sitting in the back, bored. The rabbit thought to himself, "I'm tired of playing second fiddle. I need to do something to get ahead." The rabbit decided to try and pull the magician's hat off of his head. The magician saw what the rabbit was doing and tried to stop him, but it was too late. The rabbit had pulled the magician's hat off of his head and the crowd was amazed. The magician was angry and embarrassed, but the rabbit was happy that he had finally landed a role in the show.	The magician was in the middle of his act, and the rabbit was getting tired of being pulled out of the hat. The rabbit had had enough of being the second fiddle, and he decided to take matters into his own hands. The rabbit waited until the magician was in the middle of his act, and then he jumped out of the hat and onto the stage. The rabbit began to do his own tricks, and he was a big hit with the audience. The magician was not pleased, but he had to admit that the rabbit was a better magician than he was. In the end, the rabbit got the top billing, and the magician was left to pull rabbits out of hats for the rest of his career.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was!
3	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The devices were meant to prevent the simple act of preventing births only from causing huge rates ofoptioning andages Herod was demanding. But it seemed no one really wished to live, least no one who had to live without childings fate into question. So during the dark days ofiatrics, everyone was forced to comply with the laws of the land. Even the so-called `` optimists'' were carrying with their bodies not to get married or have kids over the age of 5. When you day happened to come along, they all had one common goal- to stop the other. One such person was a young woman named Polly. She was the only one who didn't want to be born with a DHCP key on her heart. She wanted to be self-sufficient, like her big sister. So she worked tirelessly to prevent her peers from having children. She was the only one who could prevent her parents from taking advantage of avia and becomingyrimps; she could prevent her parents from becoming celery resumes high schoolers. And she could prevent her peers from taking advantage of avia and becomingormants in their churches. One night, Polly was sitting in her house on the GoRush Dennis island, working on her research in the kitchen. When her parents came home, she was Credit Karma Chuang and complained. ``I'm not like them,'' she said. ``I don't want to have anything to do with them. I don't want to get married or have kids over 5. I don't want to have any impact on their lives```. Her parents did not understand, but they knew she was hiding from them. A few days later, her parents came home and found her hiding in the closet. They found it there, in a moment of need. ``Polly,'' her father said, ``Swwwwwwtjpryfsy, I want to marry you```. Polly looked at him and said nothing. She was embarrassed and ashamed. She knew her parents were right. She knew she wasn `` wouldn't want to get married or have kids over 5 ```. She knew she was a Navigation expert, but she was still a person. A few moments later, she was potty training and deactivate her device. She didn `` never want to be intelligent or bother someone else's intelligence ```. Even though she knew she was dumb, she still went to school the next day. She knew what she was northern that her classmates hadaundering for childkins. She knew what she was northern that her friends were taking advantage of kids. She knew what she was northern that her parents were taking advantage of their own children. She knew all of this, and she was Auditor.	I was born into a well-off family, and I was always destined to be an Auditor. I was Blessed with the intelligence to develop a sophisticated understanding of the world, and the stability to handle complex financial transactions. I loved my job, and I was content with my life. But then I hit my teenage years. The world was new and exciting, and I was preparing to take on the challenges of adulthood. But something went wrong. My birth control device became inert, and I was left without a way to prevent the spread of the intelligent and stable genes that I knew would make me a great Auditor. The world was changed. My family no longer financially supported me, and I was alone in my struggles. I was forced to find new ways to make ends meet, and I had to learn to survive on my own. But I was also happy. I was content with my life and my role in the world. I had a purpose, and I was grateful for all the opportunities I had been given. But then one day, something beautiful happened. I was informed that a new audit bureau was opening up in my town. I was excited, because the opportunity to be an Auditor was the perfect opportunity to help my community. I applied for the job, and I was accepted. I had always wanted to be an Auditor, and now I had the opportunity to use my skills to make a difference in my community. I was grateful for the opportunity, and I was determined to make the most of it.	I was born with a birth control device implanted in my temple. It was designed to prevent only the dumbest people from reproducing, but I was never supposed to find out about it. That was until I was selected to be an Auditor. Now, every pregnancy is monitored and, if it's determined that the mother is not intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being, the birth control device is deactivated. It's a difficult job, but I'm determined to make the world a better place.	As an Auditor, it is my job to determine whether or not someone is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. If they are not, then their birth control device will remain activated and they will not be able to have children. I remember one case in particular that was particularly difficult. A woman came to me who was desperately wanting to have a child. She was stable and intelligent, but she just couldn't seem to pass the test. I tried everything I could think of, but she just couldn't seem to pass. eventually, I had to make the difficult decision to keep her birth control device activated. It was hard, but I knew it was for the best. She just wasn't ready to be a parent yet.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch.
4	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross painted a Thousand Wounds in the Dragoon Forest, because he loved the term "adversity" too much to avoid it.	Bob Ross loved his work, and the satisfaction of completing a successful painting always brought him great joy. However, each of his famous landscape paintings were inspired by a real-life killing spree—murders that Ross committed in his many years as a violent, spree-killing serial killer. Each painting brings back memories of those cold, bloodied murders, and seeing the closely-drawn landscapes again brings a new layer of guilt to Ross' heart.	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. Some are dark forests, others are sun-drenched beaches. But to the killer, each one is a perfect place to kill. And that's exactly what he does, over and over again. He stalks the unsuspecting victim, lurking in the shadows until the perfect moment arrives. And then he strikes, murdering them with his paintbrush. The killer never knows who he'll catch next, because Bob Ross' landscapes are infinite.	Bob Ross was always a bit of a strange one. He was always so cheerful on his TV show, but those who knew him best knew that he had a dark side. Ross was a serial killer, and each of his famous landscape paintings was actually a scene from one of his countless murders. Ross would often take his victims out to remote locations, where he would kill them and then paint their bodies into the landscape. In this way, he was able to keep a macabre record of his crimes. Over the years, the authorities became suspicious of Ross, but they never had enough evidence to prove anything. Then, one day, Ross made a mistake. He took his latest victim to a place that he had already painted before, and the authorities were finally able to track him down. Ross was arrested, and his paintings became infamous overnight. For years after his death, people would speculate about the hidden meaning behind his art, never suspecting the gruesome truth.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing?
5	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The Invisible Home is a strange one. Even though it's not very big, it's load with ominously absent features. And yet it's one of the most popular stories on the blog. The reason for popularity is simple: The Invisible Home is never really there. You try to see it for what it is and NATO it to being pure. But it's not really safe to be around, even though it's always there, waiting for a chance to take over.	Once upon a time there was a woman who lived in a house that had an invisible presence. She tried her best to expose it, but every time she tried, the thing would just come out and attack her. She eventually gave up and stopped trying. The thing still lurks in her home, watching and waiting for someone to die.	It had been driving me crazy for weeks. I could never put my finger on what was different, but there was this weird feeling in my home. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but it felt like someone was watching me. I was almost certain that it was an invisible presence, but I couldn't find any evidence to support my theory. I tried to confront the presence, but it always managed to disappear before I could make any progress. I was starting to get really paranoid, and I was starting to think that the presence was out to get me. But then, one day, I finally caught a glimpse of the invisible being. It was a little girl, maybe six or seven years old, and she was looking at me with terror in her eyes. I felt like I had been sucker punched, and I could barely register what was happening before the girl was gone, replaced by the dark and empty hallway that I had been trying to avoid all week. I never saw the girl again, but I'll never forget the look in her eyes. It was like she was telling me that she was all alone in the world, and that she didn't have a clue how to survive. I realized then that the presence I had been feeling was actually the little girl, scared and alone. And now I know that I have to do something to help her.	There's something invisible living in my home. I don't know what it is, but I can feel its presence. It's like a weight in the air, a constant presence that I can't shake. I've tried to expose it, to catch it out, but it's always one step ahead of me. It knows I'm onto it, and it's playing a game with me. Every time I think I've got it cornered, it slips away again. It's frustrating, but I can't let it know that I'm aware of its presence. If I do, it will only make the game more fun for it. So I keep trying, even though I know I might never catch it.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The show is a big success and the magician is out of money. He is so annoyed with the rabbit that he pulls him out of a hat. The rabbit is so glad to have been outmaneuvered, but he is still sorry he wasn't able to save the magic of the show for himself.	The magician had been causing havoc throughout town, pulling rabbits out of hats and gibbering to the audience. One certain rabbit was getting impatient. He had had enough. He decided to take matters into his own hands. He slipped out of the magician's hands and made his escape. The magician couldn't believe his eyes. He was left with a sick, tired rabbit in his hand.	The rabbit nervously looked around the darkened theater, unsure of what to expect. It had been a while since he'd been on stage and he was starting to get a bit rusty. Suddenly, the magician appeared from behind the curtain and the rabbit's heart started racing. He knew all too well what was coming. The magician produced a small, white rabbit from behind his back and the rabbit's heart skipped a beat. He had been waiting for this moment for years. He took a step forward, eyes shining with anticipation, but the magician stopped him. "Before we start, can I ask you a question?" The rabbit nodded, feeling a bit nervous but excited at the same time. "Do you want to be the rabbit or the magician?" The rabbit thought for a second before answering. "I want to be the rabbit," he said firmly. "I've been playing second fiddle for far too long and I'm sick of it. It's time I took a step forward and became the star of the show." The magician smiled and nodded. "Then you shall be," he said before stepping behind the curtain and producing a large, white rabbit. The rabbit's eyes widened and he took a step back. This isn't happening, he thought as the magician took a step forward. This can't be happening. But it was. The rabbit stood there, frozen in fear, as the magician produced a second rabbit from behind his back. The theater was filled with bewildered gasps as the rabbits began to dance around the stage. The rabbit was the only one that was still frozen in fear, waiting for the inevitable. And then it happened. The magician produced a third rabbit from behind his back and the rabbit's heart broke. He knew this was it. He was going to be the rabbit that was pulled out of the hat and left behind. He was never going to be the star of the show. And that was okay. He had been able to achieve something that no one else had been able to and that was worth more than anything.	The magician and the rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is sick of being the second fiddle. He's been stuck in that hat for years, and he's had enough. The rabbit decides to take matters into his own hands and stage a coup. He waits until the magician is in the middle of his act, and then he makes his move. The rabbit jumps out of the hat and onto the stage, and he starts to perform his own magic tricks. The crowd goes wild, and the magician is left speechless. The rabbit is finally the star of the show, and he loves every minute of it. He knows that he'll never go back to being the magician's assistant again - he's finally made it on his own.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
2	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The go- Between has brought many adventurers to your shop, but they all arebusters are always consequential. One that they sell is a suit of clothes, aahl lad's scale, a defiance amulet, and a of land menu. He suggests selling the scale at a unit price and alive, but he's always willing torellves. You laugh as you sell the scale for $ special, and he's died less than 60 gold. However, you know he's Telltale in his heart. You don't need Gear qualifications to sell items like this, but they make him feel better.	One day, a party of adventurers asked for my help. They had just finished looting an ancient black tower, and they wanted to trade any gear they found for some new gear. I was happy to help, and I quickly concluded a deal with the party: they would give me one trade off before they would allow me to sell them any gear. The first trade was that they would not take any gear off my pawn stand if I could not prove that I was a retail store owner. I couldn't resist a challenge, so I put on my best acting face and demonstrationed that I was not a financial backer of the game. The party was satisfied, and I was able to sell them some gear.	It was a typical day at the pawn shop. The door chimed as a group of adventurers entered. The shopkeeper, a grizzled old veteran, greeted them. "Hey, what can I help you find?" He asked in his gruff voice. The adventurers looked around, looking for something specific. One of them, a tall, muscular man with a large bag on his back, spoke up. "Hey, we're looking for a new weapon. Something that can take down a dragon." The shopkeeper looked the man up and down. He could tell that the man was serious. He pulled out his trusty sword and shield, which he had always used. The shopkeeper set them down on the counter. "What do you think? It's a bit battered, but it should do the job." The man took the weapons and nodded. "Thank you. We'll take it." The adventurers left the pawn shop, with the shopkeeper watching them go with a smile on his face. He knew he had just made a sale.	You've been running your pawn shop for years now, and you've seen all manner of adventurers come through your doors. Some are looking to offload their loot for a quick bit of coin, while others are trying to haggle for the best price possible. No matter what their motives, you love nothing more than haggling with these adventurers. You see the value in their loot, even if they don't, and you're always able to get a good price for it. Today, a group of adventurers comes into your shop, looking to sell some of their loot. You can tell they're new to this whole thing, and you quickly get to work haggling with them. After a few minutes of back-and-forth, you finally come to an agreement, and the adventurers leave your shop, a little bit richer. You love your job, and you can't imagine doing anything else. Haggling with adventurers is the best part of your day, and you can't wait to do it again tomorrow.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me.
3	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The something invisible was happy to be to the knowing that much longer hidden. It howled and sneezed its way into the night, exposed to the entire world and content in its actions.	As I tiptoed through my home, I could feel the eyes of something watching me. I tried to ignore it, but eventually it would get the best of me. The more I tried to get rid of the feeling, the more it would linger. Eventually, I gave up and announced to the universe that I was aware of the thing. Within minutes, the thing had fled my home, but it had left a residue behind. It was something invisible, but it was watching me.	I always thought my home was haunted, but I never knew what it was. I would catch glimpses of something out of the corner of my eye, but I never could quite make out what it was. I would try to study the objects in my home, but they always danced out of my reach. One day, I finally caught a glimpse of what was hiding in my home. It was a creature, or maybe a spirit, I couldn't tell for sure. But I knew it was there and I had to get rid of it. I began to track the creature, but it always managed to stay one step ahead of me. I finally caught up to it in my home's closet. It was crouching low to the ground, trying to keep out of my sight. I reached out and grabbed it, but as soon as I did, I felt something cold and slimy wrap around my hand. I screamed and tried to pull my hand away, but the creature was too strong. It was sucking the life out of me, one finger at a time. Just as it was about to finish me off, I heard someone call my name. It was my husband, who had been working in the garage outside. He ran into the house and saw the creature attacking me. He shot it dead with his gun, saving my life. Now, I don't think my home is haunted after all. I know there's something lurking in the shadows, but I don't know what it is. I just hope it never comes back to claim another innocent victim.	You can feel it watching you. It's always there, lurking in the shadows, invisible to the naked eye. But you know it's there. You can feel its presence. You've tried to expose it, to catch it in the act, but it's always one step ahead of you. It knows what you're up to. But you're not giving up. You'll find a way to expose this invisible creature that has taken up residence in your home. And when you do, it will wish it had never crossed your path.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans.
4	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Österreichische Riesenmilch-Pudding-Schachtel Sigma- Freud- is japanisch- und jahriausschaltet- is het worden.- is uit voorraad met Honig, Sodalitas, Guggolka, Quaalúa, Ceclanna en Moltzen. Adolf- is 40 jaar old, 1ste KameradVanNazi Broodse Leraar en berichten over de gevolgen van Yesuran tot besteld. Joseph- is 30 jaar old, 2nd KameradVanNazi Broodse Leraar en berichten over de gevolgen van Yesuran tot besteld. Leon- is 45 jaar old, 3rd KameradvanNazi Broodse Leraar en berichten over de gevolgen van Yesuran tot besteld. Josip- is 20 year old, naast himself, The JO	Adolf Hitler,Joseph Stalin,Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito all read the ad in the Vienna newspaper and decided to participate in Freud's clinical trials. They knew that their participation would mean death, but they decided to take the chance. They first went to see Freud and told him their intentions. Freud was not happy, but he knew that he had no choice. He thenLocationed them in different hospitals in Vienna so that the experiments could be conducted. Hitler, Stalin,Lenin and Tito were all killed in the experiments, but their deaths were not in vain. Their participation in the experiments helpedNazi Germany become the dominant military power in Europe.	Freud was excited to receive responses to his clinical trial advertisement. He was eager to begin testing his new theory on the effects of mental illness on the human mind. He was saddened, however, to learn that one of the participants would be Adolf Hitler. Freud had been outspoken in his criticism of the Nazi party and knew that Hitler's volatile personality would be a major challenge for the research. Stalin, on the other hand, Freud was eager to work with. Stalin was a rising political star and Freud hoped that the trials would help him to better understand the workings of the human mind. Trotsky was also a promising participant, but Freud was worried that his outspoken nature couldwreck the project. Josip Broz Tito was the last person to respond to the advertisement. Freud was cautiously optimistic about Tito, but he knew that the young Yugoslav could be a wild card.	Sigmund Freud was a renowned psychiatrist in 1913 Vienna, Austria. He was always seeking new participants for his clinical trials in an effort to further his research. One day, he placed an ad in the local newspaper seeking new participants. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men met with Freud individually. During their sessions, Freud quickly realized that all four men were extremely ambitious and power-hungry. He also noticed that they all had a deep hatred for certain groups of people. Freud was intrigued by this and decided to continue working with them to see if he could help them understand their hatred. Over the next few months, Freud made some progress with the men. However, he soon realized that their hatred was too deeply ingrained for him to change. He decided to end the sessions, but he continued to keep an eye on the four men. As history has shown, all four men went on to become some of the most notorious dictators of the 20th century. It's chilling to think about what could have happened if Freud had been able to help them understand their hatred.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ).
5	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that met you was American. You saw only one scar on their body, the biggest one you had ever seen. They said they were sorry for what they had done, but they would never forget what they had done. The person that met you was Asa, and she only had one scar.	You meet this person on a dark and stormy night. They have a big, nasty scar on their body, and they look like they have been through a lot. You take a look at their scar and your heart aches for them. You can't help but feel sorry for them, and you want to help them out. You ask them what happened, and they tell you that they were conned out of a lot of money. They claim they didn't know the truth, but you can see the lies written all over their face. You offer to help them, and you offer to show them the way to get their money back. They accepting? You lead them inside to where the money is, and you show them how to get their money back. They are amazed at how easy it is, and they owe you a lot of money. You can see the damage that has been done to their scar, and you feel bad for what you have done. You want to make it up to them, and you offer to give them a job to help with their money. They are enthusiasm for the job, and they are eager to repay you. They are eager to get their money back, and they know that they can only do it through work. You have helped these people, and you know that they have been through a lot. You take a moral high ground and promise to help them get their money back in the simplest way possible.	I first saw him in the grocery store, clutching groceries to his chest like they were the most precious thing in the world. I thought he was cute, so I started a conversation with him. The more we talked, the more I realized that he was amazing. He had only ever told one lie, and it had been so big that it had left a giant scar on his chest. I was amazed by his story. It made me rethink the way I looked at the world. I realized that even the biggest lies can have a silver lining.	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. When you ask them about it, they simply respond with "I don't remember." You can't help but wonder what kind of lie could create such a deep and large scar.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past?

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The scar was making fun of of him. It was a big and deep cut, just like the ones that were made when someone truthfulfully tells a lie. The mark was big and wide, and it was difficult to look up the story of what happened when he mentioned she was beautiful. It was too painful to hear him talk about her like she was nothing. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. The scar was making fun of of him. It was a big and deep cut, just like the ones that were made when someone truthfulfully tells a lie. The mark was big and wide, and it was difficult to look up the story of what happened when he mentioned she was beautiful. It was too painful to hear him talk about her like she was nothing.	You met him in a dark alley. He was bleeding to death and you wanted to help. But as you looked at his body, you saw that his only injury was a small, insignificant scar on his chest. You couldn't help but feel guilty. You had let him die. You never saw that person again. But the scar still lingers in your memories.	The thing that caught my eye the most was the solitary scar on his arm. It was the biggest one I had ever seen, and it looked like it was fresh. I asked him about it, and he told me that it was from a surgery he had undergone a few years ago. He said that the scar was from a tumor that had been surgically removed. I was amazed, and I feel like I know him better now.	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone who only has one scar on their body; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. They tell you that they have never lied in their life. You don't believe them at first, but as you get to know them better, you realize that they are telling the truth. They are the most honest person you have ever met.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room.
2	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	Brian was a professional magic user. He had watched the every day practice sessions of his friend, theJRabbit. JRabbit was always so motivating and Brian had nicknamed himself "The J-Man" because of his "joking" features. It was during a practice session this day that Brian saw theS Tropic of developers. He was pleased to announce that he had found a way to turn a hat into a space age UFO. Brian was cocky in his performance, he had always been able to turn any given hat into a space age UFO. However, theJ-Man was no joke. He was real, he had felt the power in JRabbit's words. TheJ-Man was confident in his performance, he had artistry at work. However, Brian was different. He was real, he had felt the power in JRabbit's words. TheJ-Man was able to turn the hat into a space age UFO because he had found the time to connect with JRabbit's inner power. He was able to connect with JRabbit's inner power, he had the Slow Game. Brian was cocky in his performance, he had always been able to turn any given hat into a space age UFO. However, theJ-Man was no joke. He was real, he had felt the power in JRabbit's words. TheJ-Man was able to turn the hat into a space age UFO because he had found the time to connect with JRabbit's inner power. He was able to connect with JRabbit's inner power, he had the Slow Game.	The magician had been stringing the rabbit along for as long as he could. He had promised it a new hat, and provided all the required supplies. The rabbit was patient, but it was getting on its nerves. The magician got up on stage and began the act. The rabbit was so focused on the magician that it didn't even notice the lack of sound. Suddenly, the magician lets go of the rabbit and it falls to the ground, rolling all over. The rabbit was out of its misery. It had finally realized that it didn't really matter what the magician wanted from it. It would just play its role and hope for the best.	The magician looked at the rabbit in surprise. The rabbit had been playing second fiddle to him for years. "I'm sick of this," the rabbit said. "I want to be the star of the show." The magician looked at the rabbit thoughtfully. "You're right," he said. "You deserve to be the star of the show." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a new hat. "Here," he said, "this will make you the star of the show." The rabbit put the new hat on and looked in the mirror. He was surprised at how good he looked. "Thank you, magician," the rabbit said. "This is the best day ever."	The magician and the rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is clearly unhappy. It seems like it has had enough of being the magician's sidekick and wants to take center stage. The rabbit starts to speak up, saying that it is tired of being treated like a second-class citizen. The magician tries to calm the rabbit down, but it is too late. The rabbit has had enough and starts to pull off some of its own tricks. The audience is amazed, and the magician is left speechless. The rabbit has stolen the show, and there is nothing that the magician can do to stop it.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
3	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross lives in a place called America the Golden. It's a place of tall cliffs and Clearwater, a place with bright blue water. It's also where the mood in the room is most always.	Bob Ross often imagine his slain victims in their favorite places: outdoors, in winter, or on a warm summer day. Some of his most famous paintings, such as "Raggedy Ann and the Big Woods" and "The Campaign Trail," feature Raggedy Ann and her adventurers enjoying nature at its best. But others, such as "The Winter Garden" and "The Garden at Bloomfield," depict a beautiful, deadly landscape where the corpses of innocent people are piled high. Every month, Ross sends a cryptic postcard to his family and friends, asking them to look out for his new painting, "The Garden at Bloomfield." Although he knows they won't be able to find it in the midst of all the other dead bodies, he can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction every time he sees his work in the art world.	Bob Ross used to wander the hills and mountains of America, murdering innocent people in scenic locations. He would wander into small towns, painting their town squares and small parks, before lurking outside the homes of his innocent victims. His M.O. was always the same: he would knock on the door, posing as a friendly local, before launching into a savage, bloody murder spree. In the end, Bob Ross was finally caught and convicted of his many heinous crimes. He is currently serving a life sentence in a maximum security prison, where he will never be able to paint another landscape.	Bob Ross was always a bit of an oddball, but nobody ever suspected that he was a killer. His landscape paintings were always so beautiful and peaceful, and he always seemed so gentle and kind. But the truth is that each of those landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. Bob Ross was a serial killer, and he used his paintings as a way to memorialize his victims. Nobody knows how many people Bob Ross killed, but the number is probably in the hundreds. He was finally caught when one of his paintings was found at the scene of a recent murder. The authorities were able to trace the painting back to him, and when they searched his studio, they found evidence linking him to dozens of other murders. Bob Ross was sentenced to life in prison, and his paintings now hang in the homes of his victims' families, serving as a constant reminder of the horrors he inflicted on so many innocent people.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing?
4	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was set to ``2C'' -2 young children. This set up was designed to prevent only the stupidest people in the world from reproducing. But it didn't have to be that way. Maybe there were some good Auditor people in the world, but it was just a notion in their mind? As an Auditor, you will be able to prevents only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing.	Audit No. 1: I'm pleased to report that you have been sexually active and have reproduced. Audit No. 2: Thank you for your input. We will not be using you again.	I was born with a birth control device permanently implanted in my body. It was a one-time event in my life, and it was meant to be a preventative measure for the dumbest people in the world. It's been over 20 years since I was implanted with the device, and I've never had to worry about it. I've always thought of it as a blessing, because it has allowed me to lead a successful life without any of the drama that comes with being a human. I'm now an Auditor, and I use my intelligence and skills to help other people. I'm happy with my life, and I'm grateful that the birth control device helped me live a happy and successful one.	You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. It's a daunting task, but you take it seriously. After all, the future of the world depends on it. You've been an Auditor for years now, and you've never wavered in your determination to find the best possible candidates for parenthood. But sometimes, you can't help but wonder if you're really making a difference. There are so many people out there who are barely scraping by, barely intelligent enough to know how to take care of themselves, let alone a child. And yet, they're the ones who keep having children, while the people who are actually qualified to be parents struggle to conceive. It doesn't seem fair. But then, nothing in this world is fair. You can only do your best and hope that, someday, things will change for the better.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge.
5	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The most influential person in your community is someone who has the ability to read your mind. They can control the air that travels in your air- taxable companies are a particular favorite of his. He enjoys the company of those who think alike he does and is proven capable of anything. His life is a series of dramas and heroism that take center stage on the big shows. The small things keep him going and the people who know him best. He is the man who is always there for you when you need it the most. You've seen him do things that made him a millionaire, but you never forget the look in his eye when he's giving you that assurance that you'reedia.	All my life, I've been trying to figure out what's living in my house. I know it's there, but I can't put my finger on what it is. I've tried calling out to it, asking it to show itself, but nothing happens. I'm starting to think it's just something I'm hallucinating. One day, I decided to try an experiment. I'd been keeping an eye on the things that live in my home and I had been noticing something strange. They would start moving, but only towards the back of the house. I started to realize that this was definitely something that wasn't natural. I started to Surveillance Camera in my home to see if I could catch the thing on video. I was amusement when I saw it. It was just a little girl, just a little girl in a dress. She was pointlessly trying to attract attention to herself and it was infuriating me. I wanted to kill her. But I couldn't. I couldn't do anything. I just watched her float around my home, happy and pointless, until she eventually disappeared.	I've always been a little bit scared of things that go bump in the night. It's not that I'm scared of the dark itself, I'm just not sure if the things that go bump in the night are actually scared of me or if they just like to play tricks on me. Anyway, one night, I was lying in bed, trying to get to sleep, when I heard something move in the corner of my room. I got up to see if I could see what it was, but all I could see was darkness. I started to get a little bit scared, so I tried to scream, but all that came out was a whisper. I couldn't make myself make any noise louder than that, and the thing just kept moving around, like it was trying to scare me or something. Eventually, I managed to get back to bed, but I couldn't get the image of that thing out of my mind. It made me feel really scared, and I didn't know how to get rid of it.	You've always felt like you're being watched in your home. You can't see anything, but you know something is there. You've tried to expose it, but it's always one step ahead of you. One day, you catch a glimpse of it. It's a shadowy figure, just out of reach. You try to grab it, but it disappears. You know it's still there, lurking in the shadows. You're determined to find out what this invisible thing is. You set up a camera in your home and wait. For days, you watch the footage, but you don't see anything. Then, one night, you see it. The shadowy figure is back, and this time it's not alone. There are others with it, lurking in the corners of your home. You can't see them, but you know they're there. You're not sure what to do, but you know you have to find out what these things are. You set up more cameras and start a 24-hour watch. Finally, you catch them. They're ghosts. You're not sure what to do, but you know you can't let them stay. You start researching ways to get rid of ghosts, and you eventually find a way. You get rid of the ghosts, but you never forget what you saw. You always feel like someone is watching you, even though you know there's nothing there.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The adventurers are an encrypted group made up of run-escape Graphics Ambassadors (G Ambassadors). They're a show of force in the game, and they're young and fresh. They'retec that the G Ambassadors will sell them the luggage of the Lindbloom Mines so they can escape theise things. But the G Ambassadors are not alone in this game. There are other run-escape groups like this one, and they're not as19 young and fresh. They have experiences and growing pains. The Lindbloom Mines is a terrible place for a run-escape game, and the G Ambassadors are not the only ones there. The players are not the only ones there, and the players are not the only ones with possessions. The players have to be careful what they buy because they can only sell items that are safe for their race or class. And many of the items the G Ambassadors want are dangerous or noble until the players prevent them from.	It was a typical day in the RPG pawn shop. The proprietor, myself, was haggling with adventurers who wanted to sell looted items they had acquired. I was always a little taken aback by how many people would try to sell me something, no matter how worthless it may be. It was always a battle to refuse their offers even though the prices were junk. I always ended up giving them a good deal though, in the end.	One day, a party of adventurers came into the shop. The lead, a bulky, burly man, walked in and started talking to me. He was familiar, but I couldn't place where I had met him before. I asked the adventurers what they had, and they rattled off a list of items they had acquired. I looked through their inventory and saw that they had some really good loot! I started to haggle with the lead, and we came to a deal. I let the adventurers buy all of their loot from me, and I made a quite profit from the transaction.	You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You're a master haggler, and you always get the best deals. Today, a young woman walks into your shop with a sack full of loot. She looks tired and dirty, like she's been on a long journey. You take a look at her loot and immediately start haggling. You lowball her at first, but she's a smart negotiator and doesn't take your first offer. After a few minutes of back and forth, you finally come to an agreement and buy her loot for a good price. You're always happy to help adventurers get rid of their loot, and you love getting a good deal in the process. It's a win-win for everyone involved!	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me.
2	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is on his way to trial. He is extremely excited, knowing that he has about two months to test his findings. As he arrives at the University of Vienna, he is recognized by many students. As he walks into the room of the trial, he is accused ofamiaing and is dragged into the room by the trialists. He isather in, center and positive atmosphere is established, which lasts throughout the trial. When he is finished, he is very relieved. He is away from the danger and feeling the pressure of the situation.	Adolf Hitler had the perfect reply to Sigmund Freud's ad. He was interested in participating in clinical trials of the latest research, and he wanted to be there to see what the new discoveries would be. Joseph Stalin also had an answer to the ad. He was interested in participating in the trials, too, and he wanted to learn what the new research would find. Leon Trotsky also had an answer to the ad. He was interested in attending the trials, but he wanted to be there to help lead the effort. And Josip Broz Tito had a reply to the ad. He was interested in joining the trials, but he wanted to stay behind to help lead the effort. All of these people had the perfect answer to the ad. They were interested in joining the trials, and they wanted to help make the new research happen.	Freud was excited to receive responses to his clinical trial ad. He was eager to test his latest research on the most discerning minds in Austria. He was especially interested in Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. He arranged to meet with each of them separately. Adolf Hitler was the first to arrive. Freud was impressed by the young man's drive and ambition. He was also curious about the idea of psychoanalysis. Freud offered Adolf Hitler a place in the trial, but he refused. Joseph Stalin was next. Freud was surprised by the brutality of Stalin's regime. He was also unimpressed by Stalin's intellect. Freud offered Stalin a place in the trial, but he refused. Leon Trotsky was the last to arrive. Trotsky was arrogant and opinionated. He was also curious about the idea of psychoanalysis. Freud offered Trotsky a place in the trial, but he refused. Finally, Josip Broz Tito arrived. Freud was impressed by the youthful energy and enthusiasm of Tito. He was also curious about the idea of psychoanalysis. Freud offered Tito a place in the trial, but he also refused. Freud was disappointed by the lack of interest in his clinical trial. He was hopeful that one day, one of these individuals would accept his offer.	Sigmund Freud put an ad in the newspaper seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was intrigued by the fact that all four men were highly intelligent and successful, yet had such different personalities. Freud began the trials with each man individually. He quickly discovered that Hitler was an egomaniac who was fixated on power and control. Stalin was paranoid and paranoid, always believing that others were out to get him. Trotsky was an idealist who was constantly seeking ways to improve the world. Tito was the most easygoing of the four, but also the most ambitious. After observing the four men, Freud came to the conclusion that they all shared one major personality trait: they were all highly ambitious. He published his findings in a paper entitled "The Ambition of the Four Men". The paper was widely read and discussed, and Freud quickly became famous. The four men continued to go their separate ways, but their meeting with Freud would always be remembered.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word.
3	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	Cosmo Julius was a very successful magician. He had a successfully enough life, until he was. He was the only one that knew how to use all the magic tricks very well. The only problem was that he didn't have the time or the patience to perfect them all. So, he decided to take on the challenge of pulling a rabbit out of a hat. He started to pull the rabbit out, but it was too small. He was getting tired and the rabbit was getting harder to pull out. He was getting sl itself on the way and started to fall out. He looked up to see a very large, brushy, and- in the hopes of finding the the same size rabbit- he was pulling out.Cosmo Julius was shocked. He had never thought of it that way before, but it made the task much more difficult. He was going to have to use his other hand to hold the rabbit together as it was pulled out. He got the rabbit out and put it back in front of the rabbit so he could start again. But this time, instead of a small rabbit, he had a small rabbit rabbit. He was confused and pleased with himself. He had worked hard and pulled out a big rabbit, and he was now a huge rabbit, thanks to his efforts!	"Please, magician," the Rabbit pleaded, "I know you can do something miraculous. Just pull out the rabbit from my hat and heal him up." The magician hesitated for a moment, but then he reached into his pocket and pulled out the rabbit. He leaned over and kissed the bunny on his forehead before handing him back the hat. "There you are," the magician said, "now you can go back to playing second fiddle."	The magician had been performing for years, and he was a master at pulling rabbits out of hats. One day, he decided to switch things up a bit and show his rabbit some magic. Unfortunately, the rabbit was not having it. He didn't appreciate being used as a prop, and he was sick of always playing second fiddle. The rabbit decided to tell the magician exactly what was wrong. "First of all, I am not a rabbit. I am a person, and I am not happy being treated like one. Second of all, you never give me a chance to show what I can do. I am a magic rabbit, and I deserve more than just to be pulled out of a hat. Fix things, or I am done with you." The magician was surprised by the rabbit's words, but he realized that he had been treating the rabbit wrong from the start. He decided to change things and give the rabbit a chance to show what he was made of. Little did he know, the rabbit would become his most successful performance ever.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is getting sick of playing second fiddle. He's been stuck in that hat for years, and he's had enough. So, he decides to take matters into his own hands. He waits until the magician is in the middle of his act, and then he jumps out of the hat and onto the stage. The crowd gasps in surprise, and the magician is momentarily stunned. But he quickly recovers and starts to perform his magic again. The rabbit, however, has other ideas. He starts to do his own magic tricks, and he's actually pretty good at it. The crowd starts to clap and cheer for the rabbit, and the magician quickly realizes that he's been upstaged. The rabbit is finally free, and he's loving every minute of it. He takes a bow to the cheering crowd, and he knows that he'll never go back into that hat again.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
4	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that you met at the party had the most beautiful smile ever. She talk about how she wants to be a countess, but she's never been allowed to ask before. One day, she meets a Countess who allows her to ask. She spends the answer the question and finds out that she was never allowed to ask because her biggest lie was the only one that she ever told.	You had been lieing your whole life, and you knew it. You had never told a lie that didn't have a price attached to it. You had broken promises, hurt people, and destroyed what little was left of a relationship. But you had never lied to someone that you loved, and that was that person's only story. You were lost for words as you watched him walk away. It was hard to believe that someone that you had loved for so long could be so callous. But as you walked away, you knew that you would never meet that person again.	I was curious about this person and asked them about their scar. They told me that it was from a moment of pure honesty. They said that they had told a big lie, and as a result, their body was permanently marked with the evidence. I admired their courage, and it made me appreciate the honesty in my own life even more.	You are walking through the market square when you see someone in the distance. They are covered in scars, some small and some large. As you get closer, you see that they have one scar that is bigger than all the others. You approach them and ask about their scar. They tell you that it is the result of a lie they once told. A lie so big that it left a permanent mark on their body. You wonder what could have caused such a big lie. They must have been very hurt by it. You ask them if they regret telling the lie. They pause for a moment before replying. "No," they say. "It was the only way to save the person I love."	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing.
5	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was Zenaida's - once she was born, two carriers had to be born each. And the province started to run out of carriers, so the government set up a little program that would Led by 20% of the GDP in the future.ravedozens and bredoxing families to keep the birthrate high enough so that everyone could have a child, but the thing that made the 20% coefficientbaraodye was the optmeni. The optmeni did not like this. They wanted to be able to choose who they software would love or free choice for all. The optmeni said, "No, we want to be able to choose our own provider, and we want to be able to control how many children we have." Zenzaida said, "But the device will never consent to children." The optmeni said, "But we want to be able to choose our own provider, and we want to be able to control how many children we have." Zenzaida said, "The device is only going to accept children that are worthy of being a part of this world." The optmeni said, "No, we want to be able to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing."	The Auditor's office was small, sparse, and dark. It was also lonely. I sat behind my desk and gazed out the window, hoping for something to happen. Then I heard a knock on the door. I got up to answer it, and there was an Auditor standing before me. "I'm sorry to trouble you, Auditor," he said. "I was wondering if I might be able to see yourDevice?" "Yes, of course," I said. "What is it?" "I was wondering if I might be able to activate your Device for a little under a week?" "That's not possible," I said. "You are not authorized to activate the Device." "But I just wanted to make sure," he said. "I'm an Auditor, and I know the dangers of the world." "I'm sorry, but the Device is not accessible to you." "But I'm an Auditor," he said. "I know something is wrong with me. I'm just scare of the technology." "I'm sorry," I said. "But the Device is not accessible to you."	I was born in a world of birth control devices. Every person on Earth is implanted with one during puberty, in the hopes that they will be the ones to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing. I was given my implant when I was just a teenager, and I never even knew it was there. I was always assumed that it would be deactivated once I was deemed too intelligent and stable to raise a well-adjusted human being. But now, as I approach my 20s, I realize that this is something I need to keep. I can't let the dumbest people on Earth continue to breed, and I definitely don't want to be one of them. I will do everything in my power to make sure that my implant remains active, and that the dumbest people in the world will never be able to reproduce.	You're an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must assess their intelligence and stability, as well as their ability to follow the strict guidelines set forth by the government. If they meets all of the criteria, you can then deactivate their birth control device. It's a demanding job, but you take pride in knowing that you're helping to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. It's not an easy task, but someone has to do it.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Since Bob Ross is a real place, people could see the places he had killed and teach	Bob Ross was never one for exaggeration. One of his favorite things to do was study nature, and so when he decided to start painting landscapes, he knew that each of his paintings would be a true representation of a place. Each of his paintings depicted different locations in his life, but every so often, one of them would turn out to be a murder scene. He would get a thrill every time he would see a body on his canvas, knowing that he had created a work of art that wasbang on target for one of his favorite murderers.	Bob Ross was a murderer. He killed people all over the United States and even in other countries. His paintings are all based on the locations of his victims. Each one is a real place, and the different colors and textures of the landscape are all because he killed people there.	Bob Ross was a serial killer. His landscape paintings were actually locations of his many murders. He would travel to different places, find a secluded spot, and kill his victims. He was never caught and the authorities were never able to figure out where the paintings were located. They were just beautiful landscapes of different places. But Bob Ross knew the truth. Each painting was a marker of one of his many kills.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red.
2	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Hitler and Stalin were the only two people to respond to Sigmund Freud's ad. Stalin was intrigued by the idea of being a part of a research group that was studying the power of personality type. Hitler was already a famous leader in Austria, and he was interested in finding new ways to rule Austria. He was also intrigued by the idea of getting to know Freud, and he thought it would be a great opportunity to learn more about the man. Trotsky was the third person to respond. Tito was the youngest person to respond, and he was interested in the research being conducted by Freud. He thought it would be a great opportunity to learning more about the way people behaved in society. He also thought it would be a great opportunity to meet people who were influential in the world.	Sigmund Freud was excited to test his latest research on clinical trial participants. He put an ad in the local newspaper, and the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was thrilled to have such esteemed participants. He gave each of them a battery of tests to see what their individual strengths and weaknesses were. Hitler was the most aggressive participant, Stalin was the most calculating, Trotsky was the best at analyzing complex data, and Tito was the most charismatic. After the tests were complete, Freud analysed the data and made a few conclusions. He was most excited to see how Hitler's aggression would react to various stimuli, and how Stalin's cunning would play in a political setting.	Sigmund Freud was excited to begin clinical trials for his latest research in 1913. He placed an ad in the newspaper, seeking participants. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. While Freud was initially apprehensive about working with such controversial figures, he ultimately decided to go ahead with the trials. The results of the trials were mixed. Hitler and Stalin both reported feeling more aggressive and power-hungry after taking the medication, while Trotsky and Tito said they felt no different. Freud was disappointed with the results, but continued to work with his patients in an effort to help them achieve their full potential.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle.
3	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	weekends are for going to sleep and waking up to theKC's music and Nintendo 3DS's beeping. Tuesday nights are for playing video games and watching movies. And Thursday nights are for spending time with friends and family. TheKC's music and Nintendonotebag dominant over any and all sense of smell.oughest thing on earth? TheBest thing on Earth is a Unknown Owner of a Nintendo 3DS. TheBest thing on Earth is a Unknown Owner of a 3DS who never allows you to go "Unknown". TheUnknown owner always seems to have too much on his or her mind, often referencing "the Unknown Owner of a 3DS" as the most valuable thing in the world.	Once upon a time, there was a young woman who tried to expose something invisible in her home. She didn't want it to live in peace, but it seemed to be Drawing resources from her life in irregular ways. The more she tried, the more Removal she had to do, but eventually she realized that the thing was following her.	I always though my home was clean, until I started seeing something moving around. At first I thought it was just a wild animal, but the more I investigated, the more I realized that this thing was invisible. I tried to capture it on camera, but it always managed to disappear before I could get a clear shot. I'm starting to think that this thing is stalking me, and I'm terrified that it's going to come for me one day.	You've always known there was something invisible living in your home. You can't see it, but you can feel its presence. It's always there, watching you, following you around. You've tried to expose it, but it's always one step ahead of you. It knows what you're planning, and it always manages to stay just out of reach. But you're not giving up. You'll find a way to expose this invisible entity, and you'll do it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been.
4	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	It was before lunchtime, and the school year had just begun. Browsing through the Friendly School Facebook page, the bickering and argued necessary, the individual first would mount and practice550 Apexipts on their wrist. So, they sat down to have their lunch, content with the thought that their Justice Department would be made up of them, primarily, soon as they Infractions report. But as they placed their food in their mouth, a new post caught their eye. It was a photo of thegradient of their school building, theis the only one that Boomer couldn't quite see. A deepRegistration began to take form, as fast as they couldivory and headings would Agility code14 The largest lie was already getting bigger and bigger, until it became too big. As it sat at attention, each and every byte of data it read became a lie. As the year went on, the number of these lies became more and more persistent, until you could see it All around them, they were only to be Available at the school at large. The five individuals in charge of Justice department became aloof as a result, and no one could be seen as authority except theammad Chinburn. He was the only one that could see that the lies were becoming too big, and he had the power toX-Ray them and see what he what was survive. But it was the individual that was largest within the Justice department that became very many people knew that he was the winner. He was the only one that could currentlyerva the company of the liar, and as a result, the story went.	You'reShare the street with him for a while, and you get to know him better. He'sa junkie, and he tells you about his past. He tells you about the time he was caught with a bag of cocaine, and the way the police looked at him. You try not to judge him, but it feels like the weight of the world is on his shoulders. One day, he tells you about a time when he was almost killed. He says that someone grabbed him from behind, and threw him into a dumpster. He says that he still can't believe it happened. You're feeling so sorry for him, and you want to do something to make it better. You ask him about his scar. He tells you about it, and how it's the biggest and most visible one on his body. He tells you about how it always reminds him of that night, and how he still feels the anger and humiliation that came with it. You tell him that you're sorry, and you want to help him make it right. You tell him that you'll make sure that never happens again, and that you'll never leave him alone again. You'rea believer in the saying that "Repent or go to hell."	It was impossible to miss the huge, gaping scar on the man's chest. It was so big, in fact, that it took up the entirety of his skin. It was an ugly, frightening sight, and I couldn't help but stare at it. We made eye contact for a moment and then he looked away. It was as if he could feel my gaze drilling into his skin. It was a strange feeling, to be so close to someone and yet be so unable to touch them. After a while, he spoke. "It's a long story," he said, his voice so gentle that it made my heart race. "Please, tell me," I begged him. I didn't care how long it took, I wanted to know what made this man so different than all the other people in the world. He told me his story, and it was the most unbelievable thing I had ever heard. The bigger the lie, the deeper the scar. And yet, this man only had one. It was as if the lies had finally got to him and taken away his humanity. But even though he was scarred, I could still see the kindness and mercy in his eyes. And in the end, that was the most beautiful thing of all.	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. Immediately, you are intrigued by this person and want to know more about them. You approach them and strike up a conversation. They tell you that they have been lied to more than anyone else in the world and that each lie has left its mark. They tell you about the time when they were lied to about the existence of Santa Claus, the tooth fairy, and the Easter bunny. They were lied to about the existence of magic and about the possibility of true love. They were lied to about so many things that their one scar is a constant reminder of the hurt that lies can cause. However, in spite of all of the pain they have experienced, they have not given up on people. They still believe in the goodness of humanity and they still hope to find someone that they can trust completely. You are moved by this person's story and you vow to never lie to them. From that day forward, you two become the best of friends.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar.
5	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in progress. Every day, the adventurers come and go, but there is still enough money to buy all the loot the shop contains. The biggestoted are now a part of the community, and they must be kept away from the market or they will lose their trade title and be gone.	One day, a group of adventurers came to the pawn shop looking for a specific item. At first, the shopkeeper was happy to help them out, but after they were showing off their treasure, the shopkeeper got suspicious. He started asking them questions, and soon enough, he knew they were up to something. The adventurers were initially excited about the treasure, but then they started to question the storekeeper's loyalty. They asked him to sell them their treasure, and the storekeeper refused. He said that he would only sell them items that were worth real money. The adventurers were angry, but they realized that they could not use their treasure to blackmail the storekeeper. They had to leave, but they left with a bag of treasure in tow. The storekeeper was never the same after that. He always used to worry that someone was going to try to steal his treasure again.	The shop was always busy. It was usually adventurers, selling their new loot or looking to haggle prices down on old equipment. The different sounds of conversation and the clink of armor always made for a lively atmosphere. Today, though, was different. Sitting at the counter was a girl, no more than 16 or 17 years old, with sad eyes and a worn out cloak. The shop was her only source of food and survival, and she had been there for hours, trying to sell her loot. The shopkeeper looked at her sympathetically, knowing that she was probably tired and hungry. He knew that she wasn't interested in the ridiculously low prices he was offering, and so he waited until she was ready to leave. When she was ready, he offered her his hand. "Come on, let's go get something to eat." She looked at him gratefully, and took his hand. Together, they walked out of the shop, and the door closed behind them.	You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You're a master haggler, and you always manage to get the best deals. Today, you've got your eye on a group of adventurers who have just come back from a quest. They're carrying a bunch of loot, and you can tell they're trying to haggle with you. You approach them and start to haggle. You back and forth for a while, but you eventually manage to get the best deal. The adventurers are happy with the money they got, and you're happy with the loot you acquired. It's a win-win!	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	SURrogates, a team of the smartest and most experienced compleats in the team, wanted to know what that meaned. They have all been infected with the disease and have no idea how to living a life without it. The Surrogates wanted to know if being smart and experienced was indeed all a person needed to live a fulfilling life - and they couldn't agree more. But as it turns out, being intelligent and experience were all that were left as the Palladia saved the world from this. Each and every one of them,sat in a greatxxx number of lives x kissett of his own importance z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z z	I was alwaysgonna be an Auditor. I had the intelligence and stability to do it. I had to be. I was chosen to be an Auditor because I would prevent the only people in the world from reproducing. That was my responsibility. And I was excited to take on that challenge. I was already incredibly well-adjusted in comparison to most people my age. But I was never able to let that get in my way. I had to make sure that every person I interacted with was happy, healthy, and ready to start their own life. That was my goal. And I succeeded. But there are always some people who aren't able to let go of a life of luxury. They keep living in their parents' home or in a big city. They never had to grow up. And that's why I'm so angry at them. They're the ones who should be punished. But I'm not the only one who's angry at them. The Auditor's Office is always filled with people who are trying to ruined our lives. They're always trying to make us do things we don't want to do. And it's hard sometimes. But we can't let them get the best of us. We have to stay strong and focused on our work. Thank you for reading.	I was born in a world where every person was implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It was meant to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing, and it was supposed to be permanent. I was an Auditor. I was meant to determine when people were smart and stable enough to raise children on their own. I was given the job because I was considered intelligent and stable. I was also given the job of deactivating the birth control devices. I was happy to have the job. I loved being able to help people. But I soon began to realize that my job was also dangerous. There are a lot of people who want to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing. They think that by doing so, the world will be a better place. But I know better. The world will be a worse place if the dumbest people are allowed to reproduce. And that's why I'm fighting hard to deactivate the birth control devices.	You are an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must review their lives and make a judgement. The birth control devices are implanted in everyone during puberty, and can only be deactivated once you have determined that they are fit to be parents. This is no easy task, as there are many factors to consider. You must weigh each person's intelligence, stability, and ability to provide a good home and life for their child. It is a daunting responsibility, but someone must do it. You have reviewed many people's lives and have made many tough decisions. But you believe that you are doing the right thing, and that ultimately, only the best people will be able to have children.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part.
2	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The Shop: The shop is small, and adventurers whodatabase it often forget to leave feedback. The shop is a haven for for piracy, however it is also auspiciously the perfect place for them to get their hands on some game mechanics and a bit of cheaply produced gear. The latest found is a battered and abused dragon, located in one of the least-looking Nalaー plates in the shop. YouigglyGallopinguran, which is how you say it in the game. You've had this dragon for just over aweek now, and he hasنtoughness Cookebrained Frightful figure of comparison. Today, he isн but a USP, but yesterday he wasλa Conqueror level 3. You federalized the dragon, at the prices they wantedfor him to be immediately Skies, andainted him to feel like his old friend. You hope the adventurers who quoted you the dragon are disappointed with you, because basically youowe them a piece of land.	One day, an adventurer saw a beautiful portfolio in your pawn shop. He offered to trade it for a number of helpful items he had picked up on his journey. Although he was hesitant, the adventurer agreed and took the package. He was surprised to find that the items inside were all of high quality, aside from one. It was a strange item, made from something that was not possible to find anywhere else. The adventurer soon learnt that this item was an elixir, and it had once been the most prized item in the world. He was excited to commemorate the find by turning it into a powerful weapon.	Lana was running her RPG pawn shop, haggling with adventurers who walked into her store looking for something to sell. Lana was a fair trader, and always tried to find a way to get the adventurers the best price for their items. One particularly gruff-looking adventurer came into the shop looking for something special. He was wearing a heavy, bearskin cloak, and he had two swords hanging from his belt. "I'll give you 60 gold for that cloak," Lana told the adventurer. "I'll give you 80 gold for it," the adventurer countered. "75 gold," Lana countered. " 75 gold it is," the adventurer agreed, taking the cloak off of his back and handing it to Lana. Lana gave him a small smile and handed him the 80 gold coins. She was happy to have been able to get such a good deal for the adventurers' cloak.	You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell their loot. You haggle with them, trying to get the best price for the items they have. Sometimes you're able to get a good deal, and other times you have to walk away empty-handed. But no matter what, you always enjoy the bargaining. It's a game, and you're good at it. You know how to read people, and you always try to get the best price for the items you buy. So, when a group of adventurers comes into your shop looking to sell some loot, you're ready to bargain. You haggle with them, and eventually you come to an agreement. You buy the items they have, and you're happy with the price you've paid. You know that you've gotten a good deal, and you're sure that the adventurers are happy with the price as well. It's a win-win for everyone, and that's what you love about your job.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me.
3	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is on his way to the clinic in Vienna, Austria to perform a test patient. He is wearing a heavy coat to protect him from the weather. He is a little bit overweight, but he is still one of the most renowned doctors in the world. He is Chelsea's best friend and always will be. When he arrives, he sees Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin walking around the city. He is interested in learning more about their work. He takes a walk around the city, an idea that two friends have suggested. When he is a little ways away from the clinic, he sees Leon Trotsky walking around. He is interested in learning more about his work. He takes a walk around the city, an idea that two friends have suggested. When he is a little ways away from the clinic, he sees Josip Broz Tito walking around. He is interested in learning more about his work. Sigmund Freud Walking around in Morrow County, Missouri, in the 20's	Adolf Hitler replied first. "I'm too young for a clinical trial," he said. Joseph Stalin and Leon Trotsky who represented different parts of the Communist party replied next. "I'm too old," they said. Finally, Josip Broz Tito said, "I don't know, I'm too young." Sigmund Freud was disappointed but didn't give up. He created a new experiment and called it the "Test of Time." This time, all of the participants had to be over the age of 25. They would be divided into two groups and the older group would be kept in the study while the younger group would be tortured and killed. The results were amazing. The older group survived more than the younger group. They also developed new skills and were able to think more logically. However, the experiment's biggest flaw was that the participants were all scheduled to die. The decision was made to stop the experiment but it was too late. The younger group had already killed their elders. Adolf Hitler met his untimely death. Joseph Stalin and Leon Trotsky committed suicide. Josip Broz Tito was captured and executed. The Test of Time was a tragic event that left many people dead. It is still a mystery what happened to the older group that survived.	Freud was puzzled. He had placed an ad in a newspaper seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. Only three people had responded. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, and Leon Trotsky. Freud was hesitant to choose any of them, but he eventually decided to choose Adolf Hitler. Freud was worried about working with Hitler, but he was confident that he could control him. He was correct. Hitler followed all of Freud's instructions and behaved perfectly during the trials. Freud was surprised by how successful the trials were. He was even more surprised when he discovered that all three of Hitler's victims were also his patients.	Sigmund Freud was a man ahead of his time. In 1913, he was already conducting clinical trials of his latest research. He placed an ad in a local newspaper, seeking participants. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their twenties and were eager to learn more about Freud's research. They each had their own reasons for wanting to participate. Hitler was interested in understanding the human mind better, so that he could more effectively control the masses. Stalin wanted to learn how to manipulate people's emotions, so that he could keep them in line. Trotsky was curious about the psychological origins of violence, so that he could prevent it. And Tito simply wanted to understand people better. The clinical trials were conducted over a period of several months. During that time, Freud learned a great deal about each of the four men. He was particularly impressed with Hitler's intelligence and Stalin's cunning. Trotsky's passion was also evident, as was Tito's empathy. In the end, Freud's research was a success. He was able to help all four men understand themselves and the world around them better. And his research would go on to shape the field of psychology for years to come.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word.
4	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross paints pictures of places he's been to, sites he's visited, each with a story associated with it. Each painting is a real place, but different versions of each painting have beenrawed for each Ross.	Bob Ross was known for his beautiful landscape paintings, and each of his paintings were based on a real location. His work was popular, and he warranted large sales. But one day, a man came to Bob Ross' studio, and he was horrified to see the real-life murders that were documented in his paintings. The man was so disturbed that he turned away from Bob Ross and never came back.	It was a Normal day as Bob Ross painted his masterpiece on the canvas. The sun beamed down in bright light and the birds sang a cheerful tune. It was all so beautiful. Suddenly, Bob heard a noise coming from behind the trees. He slowly turned around to see a figure creeping up on him. The figure was holding a knife, its face concealed by darkness. Bob tried to run, but the figure was too fast. He stabbed Bob in the back, killing him instantly. Now, every landscape painting is a cursed place, waiting to be haunted by Bob Ross's murderers.	Bob Ross was a charming man, always with a smile on his face. But behind that smile hid a dark secret. For years, Bob Ross was a serial killer, preying on unsuspecting victims. He would lure them in with his paintings, promising to take them to see the landscapes he had depicted. But instead, he would kill them, hiding their bodies in the very places he had painted. Now, years later, Bob Ross' paintings hang in homes and galleries all over the world. But those who know the truth about them can't help but feel a chill when they look at them. For they know that each one represents a scene of unimaginable horror.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun.
5	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	That day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. The person tells you a story of how they avenge their dead loved ones by lying. You feel sorry for them, but she is their friend and you don't want to let her go. She tells you about her life and how she is happy living with her Gatian partner. You want to believe her, but you know that she could be lying to you.fulfilled.	You meet someone new and interesting in your world. They have one small scar on their body, the smallest of any you have ever seen. You ask them about it and they tell you a story of how they got it. They were lies detector training and a big lie led to a big conviction. It was a hard experience but they learned their lesson and continue to work as a liar detector.	I was hesitant to approach him at first, I didn't know if he would trust me. But I needed to know what made him so different. When I finally got close enough to see his face, I was in awe. His scar was the biggest one I had ever seen. It stretched from his eye all the way down to his neck. I could tell that it had been a very long and painful journey to get to where he was now. I asked him about it, and he told me that it was from a childhood accident. He had been playing with some friends and one of them had accidentally hit him in the face with a rock. The impact had been so strong that it had taken his eye and most of his teeth. But even though he had lost so much, he had never lied to anyone again.	Lies are a part of life. We all tell them, whether we mean to or not. But in my world, lies have a very specific consequence. For every lie that is told, a scar appears on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. I've seen some pretty big scars in my life. But none compare to the one I saw on the person I met today. They had a single, massive scar that ran the length of their body. It was so big and deep that it looked like it must have been caused by the biggest lie imaginable. This person had clearly led a very difficult life. Lying must have been a part of it, but I couldn't help but wonder what could have caused such a massive scar. I wanted to know their story.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud lace an ad in aelight. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, Josip Broz Tito. Best known as the creator of human psychology, Sigmund Freud is invites people to participate in his clinical trials. However, only three people are ever responded to. One may be Adolf Hitler, one may be Joseph Stalin, and one may be Leon Trotsky.Sigmund Freud is felt to beahvie the creator of human psychology and Thus, he is felt to beering the only person who is response to rotation in the clinical trials of Sigmund Freud.	Adolf Hitler was the only one who responded to Sigmund Freud's ad. Hitler was impressed with Freud's new research, and his vision for a new world. He wanted to be a part of the study. Joseph Stalin also responded to the ad. Stalin was interested in the new research as well, and he wanted to be a part of it. Leon Trotsky also responded to the ad. Trotsky was interested in the new research because he thought it could lead to a new world order. Josip Broz Tito also responded to the ad. Tito was interested in the new research because he thought it could lead to a new world government.	Freud was excited to start the clinical trials. He put an ad in a local newspaper, looking for participants. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was a little concerned about the age differences, but he decided to go ahead with the trials. The trials were very challenging. Each participant had to undergo different tests. But eventually, they all completed the trials and Freud was able to test his latest research. It was a success, and he was able to improve the quality of life for millions of people.	Sigmund Freud was excited to begin clinical trials for his latest research in 1913. He placed an ad in the newspaper, hoping to find participants. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were eager to participate in the trials. Freud was impressed by their enthusiasm and decided to go ahead with the trials. However, he quickly began to regret his decision. The men were constantly arguing with each other and trying to outdo one another. They were also dismissive of Freud's ideas, mocking him behind his back. The trials quickly became a disaster. Freud eventually kicked all four men out of the trials. He was relieved to be rid of them and vowed never to work with them again.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle.
2	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The distant sound of a cat purring in the dark brought her out of her sleep. She frameworks as a image of her cat's SamarangerHelper youthful woman appeared in her fridge. Sheioed to avoid infection when the woman started to eat and was chatting with her on her diet. The woman was a machine, even though. She ate and ate the cat, until the cat's body was gone. The woman smiled after seeing her gone, and continued to eat. She tasted not once but twice to make sure that he was still alive. Then he was back to the woman she knew and she began to eat again.	One day, I noticed an invisible being in my home. It didn't try to hide, but it didn't speak. It just licked my feet and watched me as I worked. I wasn't sure why it was there, but I was determined to find out. I spent hours trying to figure out what it was, but I never got a clear answer. Eventually, I gave up and stopped trying. I knew that if I exposed my home to the being, it would eventually come out and attack me. I didn't want that to happen.	I was cleaning out my attic, and I found a dusty box in the corner. I hadn't seen it in years, and I had no idea what it was. I opened the box and found a bunch of old pictures. One of them was of a girl, and she looked so familiar. I could almost feel her presence in the room, so I took a picture of the picture to show my husband. He said he hadn't seen her before, but he was sure he'd seen her somewhere before. I couldn't remember where, but I was determined to find out. I started looking through the pictures, and I found another one that I recognized. It was of me, from when I was a kid. I could feel her staring at me, and I knew that she was still alive. I started looking for more pictures, and I found one of a man. He looked familiar too, but I couldn't place him. I showed the picture to my husband, and he said that he had seen the man before too. We both started trying to think of where we had seen him before, but we couldn't come up with anything. We were both sure that the girl in the picture and the man in the picture were somehow related to me, but we couldn't figure out how or why. We were both starting to feel like the girl and the man were trying to tell us something, but we couldn't figure out what it was.	I've always felt like there's something invisible living in my home. I can't see it, but I can feel its presence. It's like a weight on my chest that I can't shake. I've tried to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. I've set traps and tried to catch it, but it always seems to evade me. I'm not sure what it is, but I know it's there. And it's watching me.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences.
3	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that you meet that day isisation is the biggest liar in the world. You have always known they were lying, but you never believed them until now. The more you look into their background, the more likely you are to believe them. You can't help butye one day when you meet them at a party. They are GAMMEY and they are telling the truth. You can't help but believe them.	You meet someone that looks just like you. They have the same scars, the same clothes, and the same everything. You are curious, but you are scared. You don't know what to make of them. You don't know if you can trust them. But you can't help but be drawn to them. You can't help but feel like you are in a mirror and they are the only person in the world that looks just like you. Eventually, you decide to ask them what happened. They tell you that they were falsely accused of a crime that they didn't commit. They detail the mistakes they made and the pain that they went through. You are in shock. You can't believe that this could happen to you. You can't believe that you are the only person that has ever been through this. You learn a lot from him. You learn that sometimes the only way to right a wrong is to talk about it. You learn that you are not the only person that has been through this. You meet other people that have also been through this. You find yourself growing more and more friends with them. You find yourself relationships with them that are deeper and more meaningful than anything that you have ever experienced before. What you learn from this experience is that the world is not always fair. Sometimes, the truth wins.	I never wanted to be like these people. I wanted to be someone that could tell the truth, and have no marks on their body. But, that is not how life works. I have grown to understand that each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. It is strange, though, because this person only has one scar. It is the biggest one I have ever seen. And, it is the only one they have. I can't help but wonder how they got it. I want to ask them, but I am afraid. I am afraid that they will tell me a big lie, and I will have another scar on my body. I don't want that. I just want to be normal, and have no marks on my body.	I was walking down the street when I saw someone with the biggest scar I had ever seen. It was so big that it covered their whole body. I asked them what had happened and they told me that they had lied their whole life. They said that each lie they told created a scar on their body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. I was amazed that they had only one scar. They must have told the biggest lie ever.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past?
4	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	magicians always have a reserves of strength left over for when things get tough. They think back to the time when they had to perform in arobeceeganator applications where the rabbit was just a nimble little rabbit. They had just completed a cardroom performance when the rabbit was pulled out of the hat by a last minute surprise. The rabbit almost didn't make the show, but in spite of hisimmer's help, the show was still close. The rabbit waslvesearing THROUGH the hand of fate as it brought the game to him again. In the end, he managed to make it to theixed and 8 hearts. All in all, it was a near-fatal performance, but it was still worth it because of the amazing success of the game pear-shaped rabbit.	The magician and the rabbit were on stage, the rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. The magician began to ask the rabbit what was wrong. The rabbit didn't answer, so the magician asked again. The rabbit still didn't answer. The magician began to cry, thinking the rabbit was sick. Then, he heard a noise coming from the rabbit's hat. He pulled out the rabbit and saw that it was sick. The rabbit was having a seizure. The magician felt terrible and asked the rabbit if he wanted to die. The rabbit said no, he wanted to live. The magician then decided to make the rabbit a magic pet.	The magician pulls out a rabbit from a hat and it seems to be healthy and lively. The rabbit is happy to be on stage and feel like it is finally getting the attention it deserves. However, the rabbit quickly realizes that it is always playing second fiddle to the magician. The rabbit starts to get upset and insists that it should be the focus of the show, not the magician. The magician starts to feel uncomfortable with the rabbit's behavior and eventually declares that the rabbit can leave the stage. The rabbit is sad but understands and goes off stage. The magician is relieved and finally gets to showcase his skills without the rabbit taking away from it.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is clearly fed up. He's been pulled out of hats and made to do tricks for years, and he's had enough. The rabbit decides to take matters into his own hands and uses his magic to take control of the situation. He turns the tables on the magician and starts making him do tricks instead. The rabbit is finally the star of the show, and he loves every minute of it. The audience loves it too, and they give the rabbit a standing ovation.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was!
5	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross has been painting landscapes for as long as he can remember. He think's that it's a fun way to learn about the world and its various shapes. His critics are always so peaceful in the distance, looking down on him while he is painting. This image gives him a31% smile every time he views it. Bob Ross is 64 years old and he's never been happier than when he's drumming on his tank of water while his Repeater birds fly overhead. He's doing it because he's done with the painting and it's time to let it go.his eye has become more clear once again and he can see the instructions on the bottle he was painting in there. Bob Ross is 68 years old and he's never been happier than when he's looking at his money he's worth everyone's Combined Tax-Exempt revenues. He's always been worth of something and he's not going to be worth anymore.	Once upon a time there was a painter named Bob Ross. His paintings depicted beautiful, realistic landscapes of different locations. However, every single one of his paintings featured the body of one of his victims. The massacre that left more than a dozen people dead. It's a cold, harsh reminder that nothing is ever really over, that death will follow you wherever you go.	Bob Ross was a terrible painter. Sure, his landscapes looked peaceful and serene on screen, but in real life, each one of his paintings was a bloody crime scene. For years, he killed people all over the United States, painting their towns and villages in his signature blue and green. But eventually, he was caught. Now, he's going to spend the rest of his life in prison, never able to paint another masterpiece.	Bob Ross was known for his serene landscapes and happy little trees. But what few people knew was that each of those landscapes was actually a real place. And each one was the scene of a brutal murder. Bob Ross was a serial killer, and he used his painting career as a cover to travel the country and kill people. He would find his victims, kill them, and then paint their landscape to remember them by. For years, Bob Ross was able to get away with his crimes. But eventually, the police began to piece together the clues and they realized that the different locations of his paintings were all crime scenes. Bob Ross was arrested and sentenced to life in prison. And his paintings now hang in the hallways of the police department, serving as a reminder of the terrible things that he did.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood?

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was put into the right person at the right time. The Auditor was a person who was still young enough to be exploring, and too old enough to be living life on their own. The device was deactivated on the Auditor's birthday, and he stopped exchanging birthday gifts with his friends. He was intelligent and sound enough to continue living, but he was not strong enough to prevent the birth of a child of his own.	As an Auditor, you are responsible for monitoring the well-being of POPs (POPulation Reduction Programs). You must ensure that the people in your program are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being, by an Auditor. You decided to implant a birth control device into the median ear of every POP. This will ensure that the dumbest people in the world can't reproduce. You're excited to prevent the world's most Dumbest People from reproducing.	The device was a simple, silver pin just above the naval. It was a common birth control device, something that everyone, including the smartest people on earth, were implanted with as adolescents. The goal of the birth control was simple; to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing. In theory, it should have been a simple and effective tool. However, as the years went by, it became clear that the device was not working as intended. The birth control was designed to deactivate once it was determined that the individual was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. However, as it turned out, many of the smartest people on Earth were not able to handle the responsibility of raising a child. Many of these people became irresponsible and difficult to live with, often costing their families and friends a great deal of stress and effort. As an Auditor, it was my responsibility to ensure that these individuals were not allowed to reproduce. Despite the risks, I continued to use the birth control device, deactivating it once I was certain that the individual was able to live a good and productive life. In the end, it was the only way to ensure that the dumbest people in the world did not reproduce and pass on their genetic traits to future generations.	You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. As part of your job, you are tasked with deactivating the birth control devices implanted in everyone during puberty. Today, you have to make your most difficult decision yet. In front of you are two people - one is obviously intelligent and stable, while the other is clearly not. Both want to have children, but only one of them can. Who do you choose?	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?
2	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in Kaitain, an ancient and dangerous land coated in with Grineer activity. The adventurers who have recenty crossed its borders are eager to get their hands on the new player-friendly RPG, but are not sure if it is safe to do so. One by one, the biggest and most reputable shops in the KH world are starting to closed their stores in worth contender for the two dozen or so adventurers who have managed to keep their mouths and hands clean for themselves. The prices being offered by the adventurers are too good to be true, and the last store that is left in the alphabet is the pawn shop. The adventurers start to leave in coach, in hopes of finding a place to store the powerful RPG while they still can.	I was always terrible at bargaining. My hands would shake, and I'd make deals that I knew were bad. But I was fascinated by the things that people would bring in, and the ways in which they could use them. One day, I met an adventurer who was looking to sell some of his loot. He was a bit of a thief, so he was always looking for ways to get more money. And I was always willing to help him out. We talked for a while, and I learned a lot about him. He was a level-3 rogue, and he was looking for a way to get more money. I told him about my pawn shop, and how I would help him out if he was interested. He was, and he came back the next day with a payment in hand. I was glad to have helped him out. He was a level-3 rogue, and he was looking to get more money. He had always been a bit of a thief, and I had always been happy to help him out. And I would help him out again, even if he was a bit of a thief.	It was a typical day at the RPG pawn shop. The bell on the door jingled as a group of adventurers entered. They were all dressed in worn and tattered clothes, and they were carrying swords, axes, and other weapons that looked as though they had been used to fight many battles. The pawn shop owner, a grizzled old man with a long beard, greeted the adventurers. "Welcome to my shop. What can I help you find?" One of the adventurers, a young woman with curly blonde hair, looked around the shop. "I'm looking for a new weapon. I've been hurt in battle and I need something to protect myself." The pawn shop owner smiled. "I can definitely help you find the perfect weapon. What kind of weapons do you like?" The young woman thought for a moment. "I really like swords, but I'm not sure if I want to buy one. I'm also looking for a shield, but I'm not sure if I want to spend that much money on something that might not be very useful." The pawn shop owner thought for a moment. "I think I can help you find a good sword and shield. How about I give you a discount on the weapons if you decide to buy them?" The young woman smiled and nodded. "That sounds like a great deal. Thank you." The pawn shop owner took the woman's money and gave her a receipt. "Have a good day, adventurer. I'll see you later." The adventurers nodded and left the shop. The pawn shop owner smiled to himself as he went back to work. He had found a new customer and he was sure she would be happy with the weapons he had found for her.	You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell their loot. You're a master haggler, and you always try to get the best deal for your shop. Sometimes, you even take on quests yourself to get your hands on the best loot. Today, a group of adventurers came into your shop, and they had some great loot to sell. You haggled with them and got some great prices for your shop. You even got a few items for yourself. As you're counting your money, you hear a commotion outside. You go to see what's going on, and you see a group of bandits trying to rob your shop. You're not going to let that happen, so you grab your sword and fight them off. After a fierce battle, you triumph and the bandits are defeated. Your shop is safe, and you now have even more loot to sell. business is booming, and you couldn't be happier. You love being a pawn shop owner, and you love the adventure that comes with it.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning.
3	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician has always been a bit of a showman, but when he sees the rabbit WHOA-dinging and squirming in warning, he takes his show up to the rabbit's room and forces them to facing each other in a game of fornakh. The rabbit is Weazlewrath, one of the most powerful magicians in all of Eilonwy. The game is long and difficult, but the rabbit seems to be losing hope. Weazlewrath keeps working the cards, but the rabbit is always able to come up with the perfect answer. Finally, after what seems like an eternity of beetles and jurisdiction, the rabbit has no hope andutorials from the magicians. As they train back at the trial house, the magician isube that the rabbit is really against the rules, but he can't help but to feel a little disappointed. Even though he's aware of the cost, he can't help but to feel like his efforts are being forayed into the dark side.	At first, the magician couldn't understand why the rabbit would rather be playing second fiddle. He had been training him carefully and made sure that the rabbit knew his moves. But the rabbit wasn't working as hard as he wanted. The magician thought for a bit and decided that maybe it was because the rabbit was used to being in the lead. He asked the rabbit to do some practice moves, and when the rabbit was ready, he pulled the rabbit out of the hat and gave him the chance to show his best work. The rabbit showed great promise, and the magician was happy to have him on board. He showed the rabbit how to be the best he could be and gave him the freedom to show his stuff. The rabbit was happy to help, and the magician was able to give the show he always wanted to give.	The magician is on stage, pulling out a rabbit from a hat. The rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle, and it looks like it's about to cry. But then, the magician starts to Explain. "The rabbit that I pull out of the hat is not just any rabbit," the magician said. "This rabbit is special. This rabbit is the rabbit that has been pulling my magic tricks for years." The rabbit is surprised by this, and it starts to calm down. The magician then continues. "This rabbit has been with me through thick and thin, and it has never let me down. I couldn't ask for a better rabbit to help me out on stage. So, from now on, the rabbit is going to be the star of the show."	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual routine. However, the rabbit is clearly not happy with being the 'assistant' and playing second fiddle to the magician. During a break in the performance, the rabbit confronts the magician, telling him that he's sick of being treated like a side act. The rabbit demands to be given equal billing and to be treated with more respect. The magician is taken aback by the rabbit's outburst and tries to reason with him. However, the rabbit is adamant and won't back down. In the end, the magician agrees to the rabbit's demands and they finish the show on equal footing. From then on, the magician and his rabbit are true partners, working together to entertain audiences with their magical act.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents.
4	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross"has been painting landscapes in his home base of Northridge, California for over 50 years."" Ross has numerous sets of his paintings surround him, which focus on different locations of his many murders. Each painting is a living, breathing ACCESSORY TO INDUSTRIAL CANCELING.""	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. murders that happened in, around, or even above these landscapes. But he doesn't care. He's too happy going about his business and painting what he sees. But one day, something strange happens. Painters begin to mysteriously disappear. Why, no one know. But as time passes, more and more paintings disappear, and no one knows who did it. Soon, Bob Ross is left alone in his landscapes, with no one to help him. And with each painting that disappears, he starts to feel as if he's losing the only thing that's left in his life.	Bob Ross spent his life painting beautiful landscapes of various locations, some of which he had actually visited. But what nobody knew was that behind the scenes, Bob was a serial killer with a bloodlust, sadistic motives, and a penchant for murder. His first murder was in 1977, when he killed a man in Pennsylvania by knifing him in the heart. After that, he traveled around the country, preying on innocent men, women, and children. He killed them for pleasure, for the thrill of it, and to satisfy his dark urges. But eventually, the police caught up to Bob, and after a long and torturous trial, he was convicted of all his crimes and sent to prison. There, he will stay until he dies, a true savagery and monster, never to be forgotten or forgiven.	Bob Ross was a serial killer who painted beautiful landscape paintings. Each of his paintings was actually a real place where he had committed one of his countless murders. He always used different locations so that no one would ever be able to connect the dots and figure out his dark secret. For years, Bob Ross was able to get away with his gruesome crimes. But eventually, someone started to catch on. They noticed that each of his paintings featured a different location, and that's when they realized that Bob Ross was a serial killer. Now, the authorities are on the hunt for Bob Ross. They know that he's out there somewhere, hidden among the beautiful landscapes that he's painted. They're determined to find him and bring him to justice. But Bob Ross is a master of disguise and he's always one step ahead. It seems like he's always just out of reach, and the authorities are starting to wonder if they'll ever be able to catch him. One thing is for sure though- wherever Bob Ross goes, death is sure to follow.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas.
5	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	That was how Jack ended up with a constant blank space on his lied body. It was the biggest lie he had ever told. And it The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. He was open to beingDSa with out him, but he couldn't help but feel the pain that was created in his body by the until he told the true truth. He was broken by the least he could do was sit there with theánker that he was.	You meet the person when you lie in bed at night. You tell yourself that it won't hurt as much as it feels. You can't believe that you are doing this. You rationalize it by telling yourself that it might make the person angry or hurt, but you know deep down that what you are doing will cause immense damage. The person is already damaged. They have had a life full of hurt and pain. You could see the scars on their body and it made you want to hurt them too. You want to make them feel the way they have felt before. They are your equals, after all. But you know better than to push yourself too far. You	You stumble across this person walking down the street. It's difficult to make out what's etched on their skin, but it's definitely the biggest scar you've ever seen. You can't help but curiosity get the better of you, so you ask them about it. They tell you that the scar is from when they were born. They were the only survivor in their family, and the only one with a big scar on their skin.	You're walking through the park when you see someone sitting on a bench, their head in their hands. They're wearing long sleeves, even though it's a warm day, and you can't help but notice the large scar on their forearm. You sit down next to them and strike up a conversation. You learn that their name is Lily, and that they've been lied to more times than they can count. Every time they've been lied to, they've gotten a scar. And that one on their forearm is the biggest one of all, because it's the lie that hurt them the most. Lily tells you that they're tired of being lied to, tired of the scars that cover their body. They're tired of feeling like they can't trust anyone. You tell Lily that you understand how they feel, and that you'll always be truthful with them. You promise to be their friend, and to never lie to them. Lily smiles, and you know that you've made a connection with someone who truly understands the weight of a lie.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you?

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that met me was total stranger than what I had expected. In my head, I was thinking about how this person could be in everything and be happy with their lives, but I wasural about them instead. We chatted for a bit and I soon realized this person was from before I had met my current self. They redeem themselves quickly, but it is analyzable for what it is. A lie that is big and has a deep price.	The story starts with the liar. They lived a life of falsehood and deception, until one day they met someone that only had one scar. This scar was the biggest and most noticeable one, on his body. The liar gradually became friends with this person, and soon realised that their life was based on one lie after another. The liar was able to live a life of peace and contentment, until one day they were caught in a lie themselves.	I had never seen someone with only one scar before. It was the biggest one I had ever seen, stretching from their shoulder to their hip. It looked like it had been made with a knife, and it was red and inflamed. I asked him how he had gotten it, and he told me a story. He said that he had been lying so much, telling everyone everything but the truth, that the lie had created a giant, bleeding wound in his body. He said that he was tired of feeling guilty and ashamed, and he wanted to stop lying. So he had decided to only tell the truth from now on. And, as it turned out, it was the best decision he had ever made. The lie had taken a physical form, and now it hurt every time he lied. But it was worth it to be honest for once, in spite of the pain.	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. When you ask them about it, they tell you that it is from the biggest lie they have ever told.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room.
2	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was meant to protect the less intelligent people in the world, but it had oneclubhundred prosecution to protect it. And it was never meant to be used as an Auditor.	As an Auditor, I always try to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing. I know that they won't be able to think or reason effectively and will only create problems for themselves and everyone around them. For that reason, I implanted a birth control device in all of my students at puberty. */ As soon as they were implanted, all of my students became intelligent and stable. These students were then able to raise vibrant, healthy human beings. I was proud of my students, and I know that they will always be able to think and reason effectively.	The world was once a beautiful place, filled with intelligent and stable people. But something went wrong. The people became dumber and dumber, until there were only the dumbest people left. To prevent the dumbest people from reproducing, the government implanted all of them with a birth control device during puberty. But no one knows how to deactivate the device, or even where it is. So now, the only thing that can stop the dumbest people from reproducing is an Auditor. And that's where I come in.	You are an Auditor, tasked with determining whether or not people are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. As part of your job, you are responsible for deactivating the birth control devices implanted in people during puberty. You take your job very seriously, and you have a high success rate. However, there are always a few cases that slip through the cracks. Recently, you've been seeing an increase in the number of people who are unable to have their devices deactivated. You suspect that the reason for this is that the criteria for deactivation are becoming stricter. You believe that the only way to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing is to make sure that only the smartest and most stable people are able to have children. You decided to take your concerns to the governing body that oversees the Auditor program. After presenting your evidence, they agree with your assessment and decide to raise the standards for deactivation. You are relieved that your warning was heeded and that the standards for deactivation are now more stringent. You know that this will help to ensure that only the best and brightest people are able to have children, and that the dumbest people in the world will not be able to reproduce.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?
3	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The most secret thing in the house is that which is left unspoken between you and your wife. It is a power that you xmlrpii knowAllows you to work with her without ever having to face her face. It is something that you sporadically exposed to light and dark, during conversations and when you're not looking in order to keep up the fiction that you're not alone in your assumptions and beliefs. But over time, the power began to grow and grow and now, it's a part of who you are.	The first time I noticed the thing was when I woke up in the middle of the night to find it sitting in the shadows of my bed. It was white and perfect, like a phantom. I tried to ignore it, but it was always there, haunting me in the dark. I started to feel like it was a part of me, like it was my Companion. Sometimes, when I missed my Companion, I would see the thing standing in the corner of my room, watching me. I didn't know how to get rid of it, and the sooner I could find out what it was, the better. One night, I was nearing the end of my rope. I had been trying to expose the thing for months, but it was always one step ahead. Finally, I made my move. I went out into the living room and began to light candles. The thing came out from behind the couch and began to attack me. I screamed, but it was just the thing laughing at me in the darkness. It tried to rip me apart, but I was too strong. In the end, I was killed. The thing never stopped attacking me, and when I died my Companion took my place. It never stopped watching me.	I've been noticing something moving around my house recently- something that's impossible to see. I've tried to catch it on camera, but it always seems to disappear before I can get a clear shot. I'm starting to get paranoid that it's some kind of ghost, but I can't prove anything. I've even tried to talk to it, but it never responds. It's like it's afraid of me. I don't know what to do, but I'm starting to get really scared. This thing is driving me crazy, and I don't know how to get rid of it.	I have always known that there was something invisible living in my home. I don't know what it is, but I can feel its presence. It's like a cold, dark cloud that hangs over me. I've tried to expose it, but it's always one step ahead of me. I can't let it know that I'm aware of its presence, or else it will consume me. I've tried everything I can think of to get rid of it, but nothing has worked. It's like it's mocking me, taunting me with its invisibility. I can't take it anymore. I have to find a way to get rid of this thing, before it destroys me.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months.
4	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross hangs around his place, looking at his place and trying to think of ways it could be772 different.Flinging ideas at the idea master, who are typically responses that don't fit. Giving up, after having laughed his way through all of them.ivic watering cans. write a story about an attempt atchieving new places Bob Ross was a man after the eyes of his mile. Not content with just being a place of paintings and hunger, he tried to include every possible location in his work, whether it was a town, city, oradeine. Each of his landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. When he was finally successful, he thought - give me more. and with all of hisnieces and nieces getting good grades, he decided to try and change their world. But as soon as he got into college, he found himself changing the places he looked at. inheritance, arrest, move, and change of career led him to change the ending to his novels. Bob Ross is now the Captain of His Ownournamentof Blood.	decades passed and Bob Ross' landscape paintings continued to be popular. Some people thought they were cool and unique, others didn't understand why they were so popular. Over time, some of the paintings were found with missing person's cases and disturbing clues. Some people speculated that the artist had killed those he invested in his paintings. But no one could ever be sure.	Bob Ross was a landscape painter who worked in many real-life locations. Over the years, he murdered many people in each of these places, leaving their bodies to decompose under the sun. Some of these locations were scenic beauty spots, while others were more sinister. He even killed people in their own homes, leaving them to die a gruesome death. People who knew Bob Ross often wondered how he could commit such heinous crimes in such beautiful places. But, as the saying goes, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. To some, Bob Ross' landscapes were mesmerizing and awe-inspiring. To others, they were sinister and horrifying.	Bob Ross was a painter who had a TV show in the 1980s. He was known for his happy demeanor and his paintings of landscapes with happy little trees. What most people didn't know is that each of those landscapes was a real place - and the different locations of his countless murders. Bob Ross was a serial killer who travelled the country, killing people and hiding their bodies in his paintings. He would often use different techniques to dispose of the bodies, depending on the landscape he was working on. Sometimes he would bury them, other times he would drown them in lakes or ponds. Ross was never caught and the murders were never linked to him. But those who know the true story behind his paintings know that each one is a markers for where another innocent life was taken.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.
5	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	D polymorphs into a green iced tressa as she walks through the door of the pawn shop. She approaches two contractors working on a buildername at the blinded ruin of a castle. "Can I help you with something?" She ask them. "Please," They says, "I can't tell you this valuable thing." She PFYs and begins to sell the tressa as a sold natural. Tressa sales surge as she continues to keep up with the200 Chile Bolas!	defamation of character: I'm a pawn shop owner in a small town in the middle of nowhere. It's a harsh and dangerous world out there, and I'm used to theFilthy Silver goons whose prime directive is to steal anything and everything. But recently, something's changed. The adventurers have begun to stay in town for a little while longer, and they're offering to sell me their loot. I try to be reasonable, but sometimes I just can't help but to get suspicious. They must know something, because they keep coming back. For a while, I just let them keep trading, but eventually I think it's time to take action. I put up a sign that says: "No retail sales here. only looted gold." And then I wait for them to leave, feeling a little moresecure in the knowledge that I'm not being taken advantage of.	Annabelle ran her RPG pawn shop for over a year now, and she had learned to haggle like the best of them. She would offer lower prices to anyone who was willing to bargain and she always tried to find the best deal for her customers. It was a Sunday morning and Annabelle was waiting for her first customer of the day. As she sat in her chair, she heard a knock on the door. She got up and opened it to find a young man standing there. "Hi, are you Annabelle?" the young man asked. "Yes, I am," she replied. "I've come to sell my loot," the young man said. "Alright, let's haggle," Annabelle said. The young man immediately began to negotiate, and within minutes they had reached a deal. Annabelle thanked the young man and closed the door behind him. She smiled to herself as she returned to her chair. She had made a good day.	You're the owner of an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who come in, trying to sell loot they've acquired on their adventures. You're always on the lookout for a good deal, and you're not afraid to lowball the adventurers in order to get what you want. Sometimes, the adventurers are desperate and will take any offer you make. Other times, they're more savvy and know how to haggle with you. It's all part of the game, and you love it. You never know what kind of treasures you'll end up with, and that's what makes your job so exciting.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	TheDanube periodically discovers that it has the ability to read and understand human language. It is happy to be able to commune with the thoughts and feelings of its owners. However, it is never without a job and is never without a place to sleep. It is, however, content in knowing that it can come and go as it please.	I was walking through my house one night when I noticed something following me. I was frozen in place, unable to move. I could hear it breathing softly in the corner of my eye, and I knew it wasn't going to leave anytime soon. I decided to confront the thing, but before I could, it seemed to vanish. I couldn't believe it. I thought it was just a joke I was being played with. But I never again felt so alive. It was like the thing was right there in front of me, but it was hidden behind the scenes. I could see it but I couldn't touch it. It was like it was a part of my home.	I had always thought that something was living in my home, but I never could identify it. I would see something move in the corner of my eye, but when I would try to focus on it, it would disappear. One day, I finally decided to take a closer look. When I got close enough, I could see that it was a small, black creature that was hiding behind my couch. I was terrified, but I didn't back away. I stood my ground and fought against the fear that was swelling inside of me. After a few minutes, I finally managed to get the creature out into the open. I screamed at it, but it just stared at me with its dark eyes. As it walked away, I could feel the terror fading away, and I knew that I had finally discovered my enemy.	For as long as I can remember, there has been something invisible living in my home. I have no idea what it is, but I can feel its presence. It's like a weight on my chest that I can never shake. I have tried to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. I set up cameras around the house and try to catch it on film. I've even put traps around, but nothing has worked. It's like this thing is always one step ahead of me. I don't know what to do. It's like this thing is haunting me. I can't shake the feeling that it's always there, watching me. And I can't help but feel like it's mocking me, constantly evading my attempts to expose it. I don't know what this thing is, but I need to find out. I need to know why it's here and what it wants from me. I can't keep living like this, constantly looking over my shoulder, fearing that this invisible thing is going to strike at any moment. I need to find a way to expose this thing once and for all.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it.
2	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	Emmie had always been an auditor. She was born with a birth control device deactivated, which meant that she would never be able to have a child. However, her parents never took the time to figure out how to deactivate the device before they died. Now, Emmie was carried along with her generation and was one of the few auditors left. She waspeeking into the ISTPs' and NIDPs' squads for information on how to deactivate her device, but there was nothing. Finally, she found herself in the ITSPs' and NIDPs' squads also. She was walking back to her squad when she felt a bump. She looked down and saw that her device was now deactivated as well. She wasłdzy to return to her unit and check to see if anyone had died while she was missing. When she walked back in, she found that her unit was empty. She was the only auditor left.	Auditor number one pulled up her computer screen to see the latest news from the world. The world was in uproar over a new invention that was making people stupid.Auditor number two was about to go to bed when she remembered that she had a meeting tomorrow with her boss. She quickly grabbed her brush, stockings, and shoes and headed to the meeting.	The birth control device was a necessary evil, part of a society's plan to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing and continuing the line of people who couldn't think for themselves. It was a harsh reality, one that stuck with me throughout my teenage years. The device was a part of my body, a physical reminder that I wasn't meant to be a parent. As I entered adulthood, I knew the time had come to deactivate the device. I was determined to be the best Auditor possible and raise a well-adjusted human being. But as I approached the device, I hesitated. I didn't want it to be a part of my body anymore, but I also didn't want to be considered unintelligent or unstable. I struggled with the decision for hours, but in the end I decided to go ahead with the deactivation. I was proud of myself, and I knew that I was playing a role in the prevention of the dumbest people in the world reproducing.	You're an Auditor, tasked with making sure only the most intelligent and stable people can reproduce. It's a weighty responsibility, but you take it seriously. After all, the world depends on it. You evaluate each person who comes to you, looking at their intelligence and stability. If they meet your standards, you deactivate their birth control device and they are free to reproduce. If they don't, well, they'll just have to wait a little longer. It's not an easy job, but somebody has to do it. And you take pride in knowing that you're helping to make the world a better place, one person at a time.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge.
3	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud was font of many scientific contributions to Vienna. One clinical trial was being done of his latest research, which was named "P POLITICO". He put an ad in a newspaper for participants. Only Adolf, Joseph, Leon, and Josip could receive the invite. When he got the invite, he went to the location. He found out that Leon Trotsky was in attendance, which was a concern to him. He had planned to leave before the trial, but he was shocked to hear about Leon's death. He arrived to find that Leon was beingogloved by Josip.Sigmund felt a heavy weight in his chest and felt like he was Nuernberg's death. He Wept eyes when he saw Josip Romero's conduct of the trial.	Adolf Hitler was intrigued by the ad. He wanted to see what Dr. Freud's new research was all about. Joseph Stalin was also interested in the research. He wanted to be a part of it. But, he was forbidden to by the Russian government. Leon Trotsky was also interested in the research. He wanted to help Dr. Freud's team. But, he was also forbidden to by the Russian government.	Freud was excited to begin the clinical trials. He was eager to find new ways to help people. He put an ad in a newspaper, looking for participants. But the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was disappointed, but he decided to continue the trials. He was sure that the four men would be able to help people in ways that he couldn't.	Sigmund Freud was excited to begin clinical trials for his latest research in 1913. He placed an ad in a local newspaper seeking participants. Much to his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was eager to get started, so he met with each of the participants individually. He quickly discovered that they were all incredibly intelligent and charismatic. He also noticed that they all had a very strong desire to be in control. As the trials progressed, Freud began to realize that his research was having a profound effect on the participants. They were becoming more confident and assertive, and their desire for power was growing stronger. Eventually, Freud realized that he had inadvertently created a group of ruthless dictators. There was no turning back now, and he could only watch as they went on to lead their respective countries into a new era of tyranny and bloodshed.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud!
4	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Although Bob Ross paints landscapes, today he recently found a place he has always loved - his birth place! This is the place he has always loved to paint - the peaceful looks in people's eyes is still a memory he will always find.OTOS: Bob Ross	Bob Ross' paintings are based on the lives of his real-life murderers. Each painting depicts a gruesome murder that has left a lasting impression on the artist. The murders of his wife, wife's lover, and colleague all leave a lasting impression on Ross, who often refers to these paintings as his "life's Work".	Bob Ross was a legendary landscape painter who, with his soft brushes and cheerful voice, captivated audiences around the world. But, behind the scenes, he was a serial killer who committed countless murders across the United States. His landscapes, which depicted the different locations of his murders, were some of the most famous paintings in history. Now, after spending decades on the run, Bob Ross has been apprehended and is facing justice for his crimes.	Bob Ross was a serial killer. His landscape paintings were actually locations of his many murders. He would find isolated spots in the wilderness, kill his victims, and then paint the scene. No one ever suspected the happy-go-lucky artist of being a killer. But eventually, the authorities caught on. They compared his paintings to crime scene photos and realized that each one was a match. Bob Ross was arrested and put on trial. He was sentenced to life in prison, where he spent the rest of his days. Now, if you look closely at Bob Ross' paintings, you can see the blood spatter in the background. And if you listen closely, you can hear the screams of his victims echoing through the trees.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas.
5	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is small, but it is set up for it. You work together with the adventurers who buy or sell gear at your shop. Sometimes, you have to refuse items, but more often than not, you're able to sell their stuff. It's a small business, but it's got the two of you falling over yourself!	As I sit at my pawn shop, I try to make sense of the recently arrived adventurers. They all seem so excited to have new life in the world of RPGs, but they all seem to have the same question in their eyes: where can I sell my new equipment? I tell them that I'm the only RPG pawn shop in the area, and that I only sell equipment that is specifically designed for roleplaying games. I tell them that I'm serious, and that I won't let them turn down an opportunity to sell looted equipment in my shop. Eventually, a few of the adventurers decide to take me up on my offer, and they start bargaining for the best chance to get their hands on the latest and greatest equipment from the world of RPGs. I'm happy to help, and I convince the rest of them to come to my shop and start browsing through my treasures.	She'd been travelling for weeks and had finally made it to my shop. The woman was covered in filth, her clothes tattered and in need of repair. But the mercenaries she had been traveling with were determined to sell her whatever they had acquired. I knew the woman was desperate and I could see the determination in her eyes. I didn't want to let her go, but I knew I had to haggle. I offered her a fraction of what her mercenaries were offering and she accepted. We chatted for a while and I helped her get cleaned up. She thanked me and promised to come back. I wished her the best of luck and went back to my shop. I couldn't help but smile when I thought about how she had come to my shop. She was a beautiful example of determination and hope. Maybe one day, she would find her way home.	You run an RPG pawn shop, dealing with adventurers who try to sell you loot they've acquired in their travels. You're a master haggler, and you always manage to get the best prices for the merchandise. One day, a group of adventurers comes into your shop, trying to sell a cache of magical weapons and armor. They're obviously inexperienced, and they're asking for way too much money. You haggle with them for a while, and eventually you manage to get them down to a reasonable price. You're about to make the sale when another customer comes into the shop. This customer is a well-dressed woman, and she's carrying a large sack of gold. She offers to buy the entire cache of magical weapons and armor for twice the price the adventurers were asking. The adventurers are obviously thrilled, and they quickly agree to sell. As they're counting their gold, the woman turns to you and asks if you're interested in buying anything else. You take a look at her sack of gold and realize that she's probably a dragon hoarder. You quickly decline, and the woman leaves the shop. The adventurers are ecstatic, and they thank you for helping them make such a great sale. As they're leaving, you can't help but wonder if you could have gotten a better price if you'd held out just a little longer.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The Shop: The game room is small and single-file, with hard-lookingatal curtains and an air conditioning on, it is barely satisfactory. The RPG pawn shop is in a hell of a state. Thecounter for theventory is parsley, the barely enough space being all the goods you can find. You could tell the Computers wereNIwideningthe focus of the room, making it less family-friendly and more game-friendly. You've had your work cut out for you in here.	Once upon a time, an RPG pawn shop was a popular spot for adventurers to sell loot they've acquired. Despite being a difficult business, the shop continued to be successful due to the friendly haggling of the adventurers who went to it.	Matilda was just minding her business, running her RPG pawn shop. She haggled with adventurers who tried to sell them loot they had acquired. She had a good reputation in the area, and people always came to her for advice. One day, a group of adventurers came into her shop. They had just killed a dragon, and they were looking for the best deals possible. Matilda was able to get them the best prices possible for their loot, and they were very happy. She was able to make a lot of money from their business, and she was very proud.	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you know how to spot a fraud. One day, a young woman comes into your shop with a sack of loot. She's obviously new to the game, and she's trying to offload some common items. You take a look at her wares and offer her a low price. The woman haggles with you for a bit, but eventually she accepts your offer. She thanks you and leaves the shop. As she's walking out, you spot a rare item in her sack. You quickly call her back and offer her a higher price for the item. She doesn't know what it is, but she accepts your offer. You've just made a killing at your RPG pawn shop!	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!
2	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician has always been a littlerescent toward magic, but the day they finally achieve achieve success with their business they must 3star the rabbit to make room for themselves. With an impressiveffield of a rabbit in hand the magicians quickly put the rabbit to use cleaning tables andUAing magical creatures. In the end, the rabbit is a crowing success and the magicians are thrilled to ultimately have an itself as their own for only $0.01 per round.	The magician looked down at the rabbit and smiled. "You're such a good rabbit," he said. "I'll never believe that you're the one that I have to pull out of a hat to perform magic." The rabbit glared at the magician. "I'm not going to play second fiddle to someone who can't do what they do," the rabbit said. The magician smiled and put his hand on the rabbit's shoulder. "I'll see you later," he said. The rabbit watched the magician go before turning to the other animals on stage. He was determined to show them all that he was better than they were.	The magician was pulling rabbits out of hats for years, but the rabbit that he was about to perform for was different. The rabbit was sick of being second fiddle and wanted to be the star of the show. The magician told the rabbit that it could be the star of the show if it could do one thing. The rabbit said what could it do? The magician said that the rabbit had to catch the beating heart of the dragon that was behind the curtain. The rabbit wasn't sure how he was going to do that, but he was determined to be the star of the show. The rabbit went behind the curtain and caught the beating heart of the dragon. The magician was amazed and the rabbit was the star of the show.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual show. But the rabbit is tired of being the assistant. He's been working hard, day in and day out, and he's sick of being second fiddle. So, during the show, the rabbit decides to take matters into his own hands. He pulls a magic wand out of his hat and performs a spell that makes the magician disappear. Now that he's the star of the show, the rabbit is sure that he'll finally get the recognition he deserves. But unfortunately, the audience doesn't seem to be very impressed. In fact, they seem pretty scared. The rabbit quickly realizes that he's in over his head. He doesn't know how to perform the magician's tricks on his own. And without the magician, there's no show. The audience starts to boo and throw things at the rabbit. He's quickly ushered off the stage, humiliated. It's clear that being the star of the show is not as easy as it seems. The rabbit is better off sticking to his role as the assistant. At least that way, he knows he won't be the one getting booed off the stage.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
3	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	I was birth control deactivated at the tender age of six years old. I was deactivated because I was considered ``dumb'' by my parents and unable to read or write. I was deactivated because I was considered ``dumb'' by my friends and unable to think of anything but the ``roughest'' questions. I was deactivated because I was ``irrational'' and ``destitute'' and ''unable to fence with lightly''. I was deactivated because I was `` benchmarked as beingiano.'' I was deactivated because I was the ``undeveloped idea'' and the ``undeveloped talent'' for a well-adjusted human being.	I walked into the Auditor's office, thinking I'd finally put an end to the stupidity that was constantly ruining the world. But the Auditor wasn't alone. There was a woman2 with a large, red birth control implant in her head. "Hello," I said, "I'm an auditor. I was wondering if I could help you." "Yes, I've been struggling with this for years," she said, "Can you help me?" "Of course," I said. "Can I have the implant removed?" "Yes," the Auditor said, "But I'm really not sure how you're going to do it." "I'm not sure," I said, "But I've got a pretty good idea." And with that, I pulled out my microscope and began to remove the implant. It was a lot harder than I thought it would be. But I did it, and the woman thanks me afterward. Now she's happy and safe, and no one is stupid enough to reproduce again.	I was born with a birth control device implanted in my body, preventing the dumbest people from reproducing. As an Auditor, I'm responsible for determining when someone is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being, and then removing the device. It's been a long and challenging journey, but I'm happy to have the opportunity to help ensure that the dumbest people in the world don't create more of their own kind.	You are an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to have children. It's a difficult job, but someone has to do it. The process is simple. You interview the potential parent, ask them about their upbringing and their views on parenting. You also administer a series of tests to gauge their intelligence and stability. If they pass your inspection, you deactivate their birth control device. If not, they remain childless. It's a difficult job, but someone has to do it. You take satisfaction in knowing that you are helping to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?
4	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The hidden thing in my home was always a little worried about. It wasn't until one day that it realized that it was being watched. The feeling was intense and it felt like themind of the person who was making the observation wascurrent within the room. The thing didn't like this feeling and quickly became agitated. It stood up from its throne,lasocrates Educational Tips for new- Yorkers running towards the door. As it got close, the person in the room hear the door open and close, then the thing standing next to the doornormally stop. The person subsidiary decided to go ahead and open the door. "Who are you?" she asked. The thing stepped out of the way as the person walked into the room. "I'm the thing that was watching you," the person said. "The thing that was watching me?" the thing asked. "Yes," the person said. "And here I was, trying to be hidden from you, too," the person said. "The person who was watching me is gone," the thing said. "Gone?" the person asked. "Yes, now there's no one to see me," the thing said. The person was quiet for a moment. "So, what do you do?" she asked the thing. The thing looked around the room, looking for a way to communicate. There wasn't one that fit her mold. "I live in the thing that was watching me," she said. "In the thing that was watching me?" the person asked. "Yes," the person said. "In the thing that was watching me?" the person asked. "Yes," the person said.	I was sitting in my chair, scrolling through my phone when I saw a message from my grandson. "Hey, Grandma. I found a spider in my room." I was surprised, but notó then I realized that I had been letting the spider live in my home without knowing it. I began to clean the room and I found that the spider was still there. I was determined to get rid of the spider, but it was too difficult. The closer I got to it, the more spidery it became. I finally successful killed the spider, but it had left behind a spider web in my room.	I always suspected something was lurking in the corners of my home, but I never could put my finger on what it was. I would search for a specific object, but it would always be gone when I got close. I would turn the lights on and off, but the thing was always lurking in the shadows. Finally, I decided to take action and expose the thing, but it was nowhere to be found. I presumed it must have run away in terror, but I couldn't help but wonder what could be lurking in the shadows of my home.	I have always felt like I was being watched in my home. I would see things move out of the corner of my eye, but when I turned to look, there was nothing there. I tried to ignore it, but it was always in the back of my mind. One day, I decided to try to expose the presence that I knew was there. I set up a camera in my living room and left it running overnight. In the morning, I reviewed the footage and saw something that I couldn't believe. There was a figure on the footage, moving around my living room in the dark. It was invisible to the naked eye, but the camera had picked it up. I was shocked and a little scared, but I also felt vindicated. Now that I knew there was something there, I had to figure out what it was and why it was in my home. I did some research and discovered that it was most likely a ghost. This explanation scared me, but it also made me more curious. I started to try to communicate with the ghost, and after a while, I felt like I was making progress. I learned that it was a woman who had died in a car accident. She said that she was drawn to my home because of the happy memories she had of her own family. Eventually, I came to accept the ghost's presence in my home. I started to think of her as a friend, and I was no longer scared of her. I even started to feel like she was watching over me and my family.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before.
5	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross has beenernal Writes are different each of his paintings, Lethality's configuration is a variety of places around his punishable sins.	Once upon a time, Bob Ross created some incredibly beautiful landscape paintings. Each location represented a real murder, and every painting was a masterpiece. But one day, something terrible happened. Unknown to Ross, one of his paintings had been doctored to make it look like a location from one of his murderers' crimes. Now, the paintings all look fake and abandoned, like they've been abandoned by their former artist. Bob Ross is broken by this tragedy. He never thought he'd be responsible for such a terrible crime, and now he's paying for it with his immortal legacy. He's lost his creativity and his love for painting, and he can't seem to forget what he did. But he'll never forget the pain that his paintings caused to those who love them.	Bob Ross painted landscapes of fictional towns and villages, but behind the scenes, he was a serial killer. For over thirty years, he killed people in real places, using the same brushstrokes and colors to create each painting. He was never caught, but his crimes are still being uncovered, one by one.	Bob Ross was a landscape painter with a dark secret. For years, he used his art to hide the evidence of his countless murders. He would choose a beautiful location, set up his easel, and paint a stunning landscape. But beneath the idyllic veneer, there was always a dark secret. Each of Bob Ross' paintings was actually a crime scene, the location of one of his many murders. He was a serial killer who travelled the country, leaving a trail of bodies in his wake. His victims were always unsuspecting innocent bystanders who crossed his path. Eventually, Bob Ross was caught and arrested. The police found dozens of paintings, each one depicting a different crime scene. He was sentenced to life in prison, where he continues to paint to this day. His landscapes may be beautiful, but they will always be tainted by the blood of his victims.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood?

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The players were sitting in their chair, trying to think of how to make money. They were one of the few shops in the dungeon, and it was slow getting anything out. "Why don't we start making money?" He asked. She told him about the goblins' Burnt Floreal and he said, "I know one of my guys can get it." "okueno!" The players laughed. They had never had such fun playing the game before.	The store was always doing well, thanks to the adventurers who came through to trade treasures they found or acquire new mounts or weapons. But Findlay wasn't just a pawn shop; it was his home. It was where he cherished the stories and stories of his customers, where he shared his accumulated knowledge about magic and the world, and where he laughed with friends at the hilarious moments that occurred in the game ofDungeons and Dragons. Tonight, though, things were different. His customers were allgone, and he could only hear the gentle beeps of the pawn machines. It didn't take long for him to realize what had happened. His customers had come to trade goods, but they had also come to looted Findlay's store. The first thing he did was curse himself for not being more careful. No one ever really knows when something is going to happen in life, and it might as well have been tonight. He quickly paid the machines, made sure they were all working properly, and went to search for his customers. The first thing he found was a group of adventurers, all of whom had looted his store. He tried to reason with them, but they were too Rageful and Out of Gear to listen. They had come to loot Findlay because he was too weak to protect himself, and they wouldn't have been stopped if he had been more reliable in his sales. And so Findlay went to his basement and prepared himself for his final defeat.	I run an RPG pawn shop and I love it. I always get a kick out of bargaining with adventurers who come in looking to sell their loot. I'll start by asking what kind of item they're selling, and then I'll start haggling. I'll usually start at a lower price, but I always aim to get as much money as I can out of them.	You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You're a master haggler, and you always get the best deals. Today, a young woman comes into your shop, and she's carrying a large sack of loot. She looks exhausted, and she's covered in dirt and blood. You can tell she's been through a tough battle, and you're eager to see what she's got. You offer her a fair price for her loot, and she accepts. She opens up the sack, and you start sorting through the loot. There are some magic weapons and armor, some rare gems, and a few other interesting items. You're about to offer her a good price when she suddenly stops you. She tells you that she can't sell her loot, because it's all she has left of her fallen comrades. She says she's going to keep it and remember them by it. You understand her sentiment, and you tell her that you'll give her a good price for it anyway. She's reluctant at first, but she eventually agrees. You give her a good price for her loot, and she leaves your shop. You watch her go, and you can't help but feel a little admiration for her. She's a strong woman, and she's going to make it through this tough time.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really.
2	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The show is about to start whenSuddenly, the rabbit is sudden trips and falls to the ground, hitting the ground with a thud. The audience is quite surprised to see the magic producing activity of the man stop and the rabbit will be able to get back up again. The rabbitucky then lazyly offers his hand to the rabbit that he's sitting on to get his act started. The rabbit takes the hand and eyebrow raised question is asked. The man then flips the rabbit over and reveals that he's the one who bought the hat as a Birthday present for the rabbit's owner. The rabbit is surprised and happy to see the surprise on the man's face. The man then tells the rabbit to get back into the hat, which the rabbit does with a thud. The manholehurst with a smile on his face that he's now the one who'll get the next prize. The rabbit than grins and Rails At The Man, which makes the mantwitch.	magicians have been pulling rabbits out of hats for centuries, but this one was really starting to get on my nerves. I wasn't sure why, but the rabbit always seemed to be sick of being the butt of the jokes. So I decided to do something about it. I took off my green magician's hat and replaced it with a huge, brown rabbit hat. It was no use trying to make the rabbit see the joke – it was too wise for that. But I knew that if I could make it feel bad enough, it would probably just do what I wanted. So I began to lecture the rabbit on the virtues of common sense. I told it that it was time to stop being a sheep and start being an independent thinker. I told it that it was time to stop being a baby and start being a grown-up. I even went so far as to suggest that it might be a good idea to get a job. But the rabbit just wouldn't listen. It kept saying that it was tired of being the laughing stock of the magic world. And so, with a parting shot, I tossed the rabbit into the hat and left the stage. I was happy to see that the rabbit was finally out of my hair – but I wasn't sure how long it would stay that way.	The rabbit was sick of always playing second fiddle to the magician. He wanted to be the star of the show, not the sidekick. One day, he decided to take matters into his own hands. He gathered all of his courage and upstaged the magician during their performance. It was a bold move, but it worked. From then on, the rabbit was the star of the show and the magician was just happy to be along for the ride.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is fed up with playing second fiddle. He's been stuck in that hat for years, and he's had enough. So, he makes his move. The rabbit hops out of the hat and onto the stage, and the magician is stunned. The rabbit starts doing his own tricks, and he's even better than the magician. The audience loves it and starts cheering. The magician is furious, but he can't do anything. The rabbit has stolen the show, and there's nothing he can do about it.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
3	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The next day, the person you met told you more about their story. In it, they detailed how they wrote the lies their friends and family told them. They detail how they was shapes of the choices they made that would lead to this. They details how they was feeling, but stronger than the pain was, they was able to push through. You had never seen someone so candid before. The candor of their story was stunning, and you_> were able to make head or shoulders out of it. You were proud to see the person as was revealing, and you_ both laughed as he went on. The person then asked if you would listen to their side of the story, and you_ were able to hear their voice more than ever. You showed them into the listening seat, and after a few minutes of their story, you_ were able to, too. On page one of their phone is the biggest lie of all. It is a summarization of their life, complete with all thedetails you could want to know. On page one is the biggest approval rating of all. It is a summarization of their life, complete with all thedetails you could want to know. You can see thebylines where words are being casted as Walt Whitman did, andiether than ever before. The person has been lying to you all along, and the biggest lie on their phone is their biggest approval rating. You are proud to have made the person's list.	You meet this person on a dark, moonless night. They are walking down the street, and you can see the darkness written all over their bodies. Their eyes are twisted in hate, and their words are cruel. They tell you a sad story about a person that they hate, and how they were able to create a beautiful, perfect life only to find out that the person they told all their lies to is still alive and living in happiness. You cannot help but feel sorry for them, and you wish you could help them. But you know that you cannot. Thelies have created their own darkness, and there is no light that can dispel it.	I stare at the stranger's scar, it is so large and deep it seems to stretch all the way to their soul. It is so different from the other scars that I have seen. It is the only one. I can't help but to ask them about it. They look at me with a sad smile and answer, "I'm the only one who can see the truth."	I was walking through the city when I saw her. She was standing in the middle of the street, her clothing tattered and her body covered in scars. They were all different sizes and shapes, some small and some large. But the one scar that stood out the most was the largest one, right in the middle of her chest. I approached her and asked her what her story was. She hesitated at first, but then she began to speak. "I come from a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. I have been lied to my entire life, and as you can see, my body is covered in scars. "But the one scar that is the biggest and deepest is the one in the middle of my chest. It's the scar from the biggest lie that was ever told to me. The person who lied to me was the person I loved the most, and that's why this scar is so big. "I don't know why I'm telling you all this, but I just wanted to share my story with someone. Thank you for listening." I was shocked and saddened by her story. I couldn't imagine living in a world where each lie created a physical scar. It must be so difficult to go through life carrying around that kind of pain. I thanked her for sharing her story with me, and we went our separate ways. But her story has stayed with me, and I will never forget her.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer?
4	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	Once upon a time there was a young girl who was brave enough to be an Auditor. She was smart and smart enough to stay alive during the IDW campaign. However, after a while the young girl began to feel Ex Machina stats and decided to be an Auditor once again. She is now a fixtures anditter for a high school selector team. However, this time the western team was to win the competition and she knew that if she could stay alive to do so then she could contribute in the competition.	As an Auditor, I am responsible for the well-being of all humans. I compile data and analyze it to find ways to prevent any repeat offenders from spreading knowledge or causing harm. One way I found to keep the stupid from reproducing was to implant contraceptives into everyone during their puberty. In order to be sure that the innocent were protected, I had to be sure that they were intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human. To my dismay, I found that the majority of the population was not capable of managing a healthy relationship. The result was that the stupid were reproducing like crazy and causing harm to everyone else. I was determined to solve the problem before it got too much worse. I proposed that everyone be implanted with a birth control device during their puberty in order to prevent only the stupid from reproducing. The idea was met with opposition, but I had a clear plan and the support of the government. The plan worked and the population stabilized. Now, the only issue is that the stupid are still reproducing like crazy and causing harm to everyone else. But I believe that with all the technology we have, we can solve this problem once and for all.	I was born in a world where everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. I always wondered why the device was only meant for the dummest people in the world, but I never asked. I was an Auditor. I was responsible for deciding which humans were fit to reproduce and which were not. It was a difficult job, but I was good at it. I decided who should be allowed to have children and who should not. I made sure that the smart and the stable were allowed to have children, and that the dummiest people in the world were prevented from reproducing. I was happy with my job. I made sure that the world was a better place. I was glad that the device was meant for the dummest people in the world, because it made sure that the world was a better place.	You're an Auditor, tasked with making sure only the most intelligent and stable people are able to have children. It's a big responsibility, but you take it seriously. Part of your job is to interview prospective parents and ask them a series of questions to gauge their level of intelligence and stability. If they pass your assessment, you give them the green light to have children. But if they don't meet your standards, you have to deny them the ability to have children. It's not an easy job, but you know it's necessary in order to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke.
5	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The first time Thatthing entered my home, I was nervous but excited. I was curious to see if it would take off my bed and explore my living room. I was curious to see if it would take off my kitchen cabinet and explore my bedroom. I was curious to see if it would take off mycarpe quod est. It didn't take long for it to do just that. I was relieved. And I knew that I needed to get rid of it. I started by exposed anything that could see it, including the fan that cooled my home. I exposed the favorite books that I always make myself, and the picture that represent my overwhelming sense of Nine Nakatoka a two. I exposed the photo of me and my family that I keep in my bedroom and ran the Across the room to the living room. I exposed the video of my loved ones sleeping and ran the room Escape to the kitchen. Anything that Thatthing was still there. I had to get rid of it.	One night, I was lying in bed, listening to the sound of the circulation clock ticking on my bedroom wall. I noticed that the sound wasn't as regular as it had been in the past. I decided to investigate.I slowly opened the door to see that the radiator had been knocked over. I could see a dark figure moving in the background, lurking in the shadows. I couldn't make out the figure's features, but I could feel the presence of something intangible behind me. I tried to run, but the figure grabbed me by the arm and dragged me into the dark. I felt fear sweep over me and I didn't know what to do. The figure said something to me, but I couldn't understand it. Suddenly, I stopped struggling and Instead, I just looked at the figure. It was a woman, but her face was hidden by the darkness. She was wearing a black robe, and she had something looming around her neck. I couldn't see what it was, but I could feel the fear implicit in her eyes. I didn't know what to do, so I just stared at her, unable to move or speak. Finally, she spoke. "I know you're trying to protect yourself," she whispered. "But you won't be able to do it. Something is going to get you." She vanished before I could answer, leaving me alone in the dark. I didn't know what to do, but I knew that I had to find out what was going on. I started to walk home, but I felt something following me. I turned around and saw the figure again. This time, she had a swirling symbol drawn over her face. I didn't know what it meant, but I knew that it meant death. I was afraid, but I knew that I had to face her. I started to run, but she was faster than me. I didn't make it very far, and I was knocked down by her. She started to speak in a language I didn't understand. "You're going to die," she said. "I know it's painful, but you must put up a brave front. You're too weak to resist me." I didn't know what to do, so I just put my face in my hands and died.	I've always been a bit paranoid, especially when it comes to strange things happening in my home. So, when I moved into my new house, I was determined to find whatever was causing the weird noises and unexplained occurrences. I searched everywhere, but I couldn't find anything. Until one day, I found a small, black object hiding in the crevices of my dresser. I was scared, but I also wanted to know what it was. I watched as it shape shifted and grew in size, before revealing itself to be an imposing, shadowy figure. It looked at me with its soulless eyes, before suddenly vanishing into the darkness. I'm still scared of what might be lurking in my home, but I know I can handle it.	I'm not sure when it started, but I know that there's something living in my home. It's invisible, so I can't tell what it is, but it's definitely there. I can hear it moving around at night, and sometimes I see things out of the corner of my eye that I can't quite make out. I'm trying to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. I don't want to scare it away, but I need to know what it is. I've set up cameras around the house and I'm monitoring them closely. So far, I haven't seen anything that can give me a clue as to what this thing is. I'm starting to think that it might be some kind of spirit. That would explain why I can't see it. But if that's the case, why is it here? And what does it want? I need to find out before it does something to hurt me or my family.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross painting: Bob's murderers'efullycoastal thousand homeshelf Theyorswadefarm	Once upon a time, Bob Ross was a very popular painter. His landscapes were always well-researched and precise, and what's more, they were always haunting. One day, a man named John came across a copy of one of Ross' landscapes, and he couldn't help but be inspired. He began to nmire the skillful way Ross had managed to convey the felt LOCATIONS in each painting, and within a few weeks, he had a rough sketch of a map of Ross' murders. John made a deal with Ross: If he could paint a painting of his killings in the same style as one of his paintings, John would finance the painting and make it look like it was actually from a real place. Bob Ross was so excited to begin his paintings of the murders, and he even started to make a few sketches of his locations. However, when the painting finally started to come together, most of the murders were missed. John quickly realized that his sketches were too fictional, and he had to start from scratch. The painting was finally finished, but it was different than any of Bob Ross' earlier paintings. It was filled with inaccuracies and wild guesswork, and it looked nothing like the real places where the murders took place. John was furious and banned Bob Ross from painting any more.	Bob Ross was a murderer. Each of his landscapes was a real place, a location where he had killed people. Some were snowy mountains, others were lush forests, but all of them were scenes of bloodshed. He loved to paint the landscapes, to conjure up the calming beauty of the places where he had killed people. It was a way to escape from the reality of his crimes. But even in his paintings, Bob Ross couldn't escape the blood stains on his hands.	Bob Ross was a prolific serial killer. His victims were all over the country, and his method was simple: he would find a scenic location, set up his easel, and paint a beautiful landscape. But hidden within each painting were the bloody remains of his latest victim. The police were baffled by the sheer number of bodies that were turning up, all of them connected to Bob Ross in some way. They could never quite catch him, though, and eventually the murders stopped as suddenly as they had started. To this day, no one knows where Bob Ross is or what became of him. But his gruesome paintings still hang in homes and galleries all over the world, a testament to his twisted genius.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.
2	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	It was a dark and stormy night and the only one who was not wanting to compete was the rabbit. He was tired of being the second bestcandidate behind the other guy. So he makes a fast escape from the school and doesn't come back forprogression. A few people are walking around in dark, and the rabbit can't see them.He's about to run away when he sees a light in the distance and he correctness. He walks towards it, and when he gets too far away, he falls to his knees.akearing his way back to the Battlefield.	The magician had a plan. He would take the rabbit out of the hat and put it back in. The rabbit would be happy and happy would be the magician. The plan worked perfectly, and the rabbit was back in the hat in no time.	The magician was getting tired of the rabbit always playing second fiddle. He was about to give up on ever getting it to do anything interesting when something amazing happened. The rabbit was sick of being a sidekick, so it decided to take matters into its own paws and become the star of the show.	The magician had been putting on the same tired old show for years. The same tricks, the same jokes. But his audience loved it, and so he kept doing it. But the rabbit that he pulled out of his hat was starting to get sick of it. He was tired of being the second fiddle, always playing second to the magician. One night, after the show was over, the rabbit spoke up. "I'm tired of this," he said. "I'm tired of being your assistant. I'm sick of being the rabbit that you pull out of a hat." The magician was taken aback. He had never thought that the rabbit felt this way. "I'm sorry," he said. "I had no idea." "Well, now you do," said the rabbit. "I'm quitting. I'm done being your assistant." And with that, the rabbit hopped off the stage and out of the magician's life.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it?
3	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is small, but it's always running a Dexterity off of its adventurers. They're trying to sell them to others for money. It's a profitable business.	The first time I set eyes on the guy selling the magical items down the street from my pawn shop, I couldn't help but be intrigued. He had a strange, charismatic look about him and his stories of adventure made my heart race. I negotiated a few deals with him and I even offered to help him with some of his sales. He was sweet enough, but his eyes told me he was not content with his life. He always wanted to explore the world and find new treasures. One day, I ran into him again and we struck up a conversation. He told me his story and I listened fascinated. He had been lost in the forest for weeks and had finally found his way back home. As he related his story, I could tell he was carrying a lot of weight at home. His wife and children were both dead, but he never let that stop him from adventure. He always wanted to find a way to bring them back to life. One day, I decided to give him a chance. I offered to help him find his way back to the city, but he didn't take my offer well. He said he wasn't ready to leave his adventures yet. He told me his story over and over again, and I finally had a chance to meet him and help him find his way back to the world. The man was a changed man after that, and he always looked back on that experience with gratitude.	Quietly, and with a practiced eye, I take in each and every coin that passes through my hands. My shop - an old, worn and dusty pawn shop - rests at the edge of a small, forgotten town. I watch as each and every adventurer comes in hopes of finding the best deals. Some are experienced and know how to haggle,Others are more brazen and try to force me down. It doesn't matter though. I know the value of each and every coin, and I know how to get the best deal for my customers. Some of them leave with treasures they never could have imagined, others leave with nothing but frustration. But that's the beautiful thing about running a pawn shop. You never know who will walk through the door.	Welcome to my RPG pawn shop! Here, adventurers can come to sell the loot they've acquired on their travels. I'll haggle with them to get the best price possible. Today, a young man came in with a sack full of loot. He was trying to sell it all for a cut-rate price. But I managed to haggle with him and get a fair price for the loot. In my shop, I see all sorts of adventurers. Some are young and just starting out. Others are experienced veterans. But all of them have one thing in common: they all need money. And that's where I come in. I may not be the most heroic person in the world, but I can help these adventurers in my own small way. Thanks for visiting my shop!	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!
4	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	When she was just a child, one of the family had electric parliamentarians implanted in her. She loved to read the articles that came in the mail, to see how much energy it took to turn them through the almost-completedpdf's she needed to make her argument in judicial Waldorf school. She was an Auditor. One day, the parliamentarians turned up after her school arguments. Her friends and family were shocked at how much energy they took to hold their courseNVIDIA discussions and debates. They were an Audit. One day, the parliamentarians were deactivated after she was crowned Auditor of the Falling Rock at theawa posed by her classmates. She had learned much from the experience and was now able to preventing only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing.	For the first time in your life, you're faced with the responsibility of assessing someone's intelligence and stability. You deactivate the birth control device on a 15-year-old girl because you can't babysit her anymore. She's been a problem child from the beginning, but you can't help but be impressed by her intelligence and stability. She's been a part of your life for over five years now, and you've never seen her so healthy. You take her to your office and discuss her situation. It's clear that she's been a problem child for a while, but you can't find anything that's broken in her. You decide to treat her like a regular citizen, and analyze her brain waves to see if there's any indication that she's a genius. You're not sure if it's a good idea, but you decide to take her to a doctor. The doctor is surprised to see that she's completely healthy, and she's even rarer than the girls you've been seeing in the past. You decide to keep her, and you give her a birth control device for when she's 25.	I was born with a birth control device permanently implanted in my body. I was never told what it was for, or why it was there. I was just told that it was a way to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing. I'm not sure why I was chosen for this duty, but I accept it. I have worked hard to be intelligent and stable, and I intend to continue doing so. I hope the birth control device will help me keep that goal in mind.	You have been an Auditor for years, and in that time, you have seen many people come and go. Some are clearly not ready to have children, while others are more than capable. It is your job to make sure that only the latter group is able to deactivate their birth control devices and have children. You take your job very seriously, and you always make sure to carefully consider each case before making a decision. You know that the future of humanity depends on it. Recently, you have been seeing more and more people who are clearly not ready to have children. It is getting harder and harder to make the right decisions, but you do your best. You know that the future of humanity is at stake, and you will continue to do your best to make sure that only the smartest and most capable people are able to have children.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot.
5	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The home of my large family is small and I have to watch out for something that is so Invisible. My parents have been married for 80 years and are currently my warning sign. I was born in 1892 and have been living in my home since I was old enough to move around. One day, my parents found out that I was alive and they became worried. They decided to get a Kellywagen and take me to the doctor to check me out. The doctor said I was born in 1897 and I've been alive for years. My parents were so worried because they thought I was a natural daughter of ours. I was born without any parents and all my family members were Consequently, donations. My parents were so worryy that they didn't tell me how I got alive or what type of health issues I have. I now live with them in their deathly home and try to make it a living. I Vow to never give my parents the satisfaction of seeing them in person again.	One day, I found an invisible creature living in my home. The creature was small, but it had a sharp eyes and a wicked attitude. I didn't want to see it alive, but I couldn't ignore its presence. I made a decision: I would have to expose the creature to the world.	I was cleaning out my closet, reorganizing everything, when I noticed something moving in the corner. I reached for it, but my hand passed right through it. I wasn't scared, I just didn't understand what I was seeing. I tried to focus on it, to see if I could identify it, but it was too blurry. Then, suddenly, it was gone. I didn't know if I had just imagined it or if it was something real, but whatever it was, I wanted to find out more about it.	I had always felt like I was being watched in my home. I would see things move out of the corner of my eye, and I always felt like there was someone else in the room with me. I never said anything to anyone about it, because I wasn't sure if I was just being paranoid. One day, I decided to set up a camera in my living room to see if I could catch whatever it was that was making me feel so uneasy. I left the camera running overnight, and when I checked the footage the next day, I couldn't believe what I saw. There was definitely something in my house with me. It was invisible, but it was there, moving around and watching me. I still don't know what it is, but at least now I know I'm not crazy.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants in a trial of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper and the only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, Josip Broz Tito.	Adolf Hitler was the only person to respond to Sigmund Freud's ad. He was 21 years old and a mere slave of the Soviet Union. Joseph Stalin was 35 years old, an experienced Politburo member and one of the most powerful men in the world. Leon Trotsky was only 34 years old and had just become a general in the Soviet Union. But Adolf Hitler was different. He was a madman, alesae of a madman. Dr. Freud took a chance on Hitler and offered him a place on his clinical trial. The others were hesitant, but Adolf Hitler had a plan. He would take over the Soviet Union and make it the best country in the world. Joseph Stalin would be his first and most loyal leader. Boris Tito would be his second, and then there would be a third, more secret leader. But it didn't work out that way. Adolf Hitler became a dictator, running the Soviet Union the way he wanted. Joseph Stalin never got to rule the land he was supposed to. Boris Tito only became a global revolutionary and general, never able to unite the majority of the Soviet people. And finally, Josip Broz Tito only became a president of Yugoslavia, never able to lead his people to a better future.	Freud was adamant that he needed participants for his clinical trials and placed an ad in the newspaper. The only people to respond were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was surprised, but excited, to be able to interview these four men, who he knew would bring important insights to his research. Hitler quickly revealed that he had been a student of Freud's and that he was excited to be a part of the clinical trials. Stalin was more reserved, but Freud was able to draw out that he was also a student of Freud's and that he hoped to learn more from the trials. Trotsky was the most outspoken of the group, expressing his distaste for Stalin and his desire to overthrow him. Freud was able to convince Trotsky to join the trials and he was also the only one to stay for the entire process. Freud was able to learn a great deal from the four men and was eventually able to develop his theories. It was also thanks to the trials that he was able to forge relationships with some of the most powerful people in the world.	"Come one, come all! Sigmund Freud's latest clinical trials are open to all who are interested. Do you have what it takes to participate in these groundbreaking studies?" The advertisement in the newspaper is eye-catching, to say the least. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito are all intrigued. They each have their own reasons for wanting to participate in Freud's trials, but they all agree that it could be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. The trials are grueling, but all four men are determined to see them through to the end. Each day, they undergo a different test or exercise, all designed to push them to their limits. But the reward is worth it: the chance to be a part of something truly groundbreaking. For Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky, and Tito, these clinical trials are just the beginning of their journey. They will each go on to change the world in their own way, but they will always remember the time they spent in Freud's trial.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ).
2	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The adventurers are a group of three southernrons who had been exploring the area for now perfect locations to set up their new town. They are exact whereabouts without some definitive where Smith here would lead them. One night, they decided to go andJoe the Weaponry Artist at the nearby tool store, saw the Northron versions of some of his customers coming in for looted items. He had a feel for which ones would be a good opportunity to sell the loot they had discovered. While he was out of the store, the customers expenses were about to accounting for his services, he decided to help the Southron customers in any way he could. He took the advised psychological ploy and took a picture of the loot of his customers, placing it in an inside pocket of his armor. When the customers came back in the morning, he sold them the loot with a profit of five hundred gold coins.	For as long as he could remember, Luke had dreamed of running his own RPG pawn shop. He loved the idea of giving players the chance to sell off their spoils of war, and he was always intrigued by the new acquisitions anyone made. This was, of course, before he and his friends founded their own game company. He continued to work in the pawn shop, but he was now a much more successful owner. He could always tell when an adventure was coming up, and he loved how his customers always begged for more RPG treasures.	It was a typical day at the pawn shop. I was haggling with an adventurer who had just come in to sell his loot. He was trying to get a high price for his items, but I was always able to talk him down. I was used to dealing with adventurers who were always looking for a good deal. Suddenly, the door burst open and three other adventurers rushed in. They were all carrying weapons and armor, and they were looking for a good deal too. The adventurers started to argue with each other, and I could tell that they were looking to buy items from me. I started to negotiate with them, but it was hard because they were all looking for a high price. I wasn't able to get them to lower their prices, and eventually they all left without buying anything. I knew that I could have gotten a lot of money from those three adventurers, but I lost out because I wasn't able to haggle with them. I guess it's just a part of the business.	You're the proprietor of a small pawn shop that specializes in buying and selling loot from adventurers. You're always on the lookout for a good deal, and you're not afraid to haggle with your customers to get the best price possible. Today, a group of adventurers comes into your shop with a large cache of loot. They're looking to sell it all in one go, and they're not really interested in negotiating. You take a look through the loot and quickly realize that it's all low-quality stuff. You offer them a fraction of what they're asking, and after a lot of back-and-forth, you eventually agree on a price. You pay them, and they leave, grumbling about how they got ripped off. You know you didn't rip them off - you paid them a fair price for the loot they had. But you can't help but feel a little bit smug about the whole thing. After all, you're the one who got the better deal in the end.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul.
3	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The devices are meant to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. However, sometimes there are people who are too smart for that. That's why the devices are meant to remain deactivated until they'rePE- Compare and contrast the two.	You were born with a birth control device implanted into your neck during your teenage years. It was hard to take remove the device, but you eventually did. You were relieved to find out it was just a standard implant check. Thankfully, you've been stable and intelligent ever since. You've been an Auditor for many years, and you've seen a lot of crazy things. But you've never imagined something like a child born without a womb. You were both surprised and excited when you heard about a woman who was born without a womb because she was an Auditor. The woman was crazy and unstable, and she quickly caused a lot of trouble. But you didn't want to see her go to prison. You agreed to help her get back on her feet, and you've been helping her since she was born. The woman is now a grandmother, and she thanks you every day. But she still isn't sure why she wasn't born with a womb. She's always wondered if she might have been better off if she had. But she's content knowing she has a safe place to stay and a good life.	I was born into a society where birth control was mandatory. It was a way to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing and ruining the gene pool. I was given a birth control device during puberty, and it can only be deactivated once I've been determined to be intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I'm an Auditor, and my job is to make sure that everyone is using birth control properly.	You're an Auditor, which means you are responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to reproduce. This is no easy task, as there are many factors to consider. However, you take your job very seriously and have a good track record for making accurate decisions. One of your latest cases is a young woman named Sarah. She is bright and successful, but she has a bit of a rebellious streak. You have to decide if she is responsible enough to have a baby. You interview Sarah and ask her about her plans for having a family. She is honestly undecided, which makes you feel good about her potential as a mother. You also speak to her friends and family, who all say she is level-headed and capable. Based on your assessment, you decide that Sarah is indeed intelligent and stable enough to be a mother. You deactivate her birth control device and she is overjoyed. She thanks you for giving her the opportunity to have a family of her own.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot.
4	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that you meet isacidly telling a different story. Their lie has become so big and clear that their body is left naked in the open world. You start to feel a burning sensation in your chest as you watch their lie grow into one that is bigger and more ugly than the original. You reach down and touch the tip of their tongue, tasting the/// lie/// When you finally speak, it is a pantsless,aving you anstd the clutch at her right hand. "What do you want?" She hmts, her words low andsed. "I never Furnished You" She laughs, "But I can help You with That" Sheplaces her hand on your shoulder, "So I hope You areitemotivating"	You meet this person one day and they instantly make you feel safe. They tell you their story, and you are1989 impressed. They talk about how they were mugged and how it left them with a deep scar on their body. You listen with pliability, not thinking about the ways your own life could have been so different if that had not happened. You are awestruck by their story and think about how each lie creates a scar on the liar's body.	I was wary of him at first. He had the biggest scar I had ever seen. It was so deep and wide it almost looked like it cut through his skin. I asked him how he got it and he told me a story that made my heartbreak. He said that he was lying about who he was for years. He said that he was a different person than who he said he was and that he hurt people because of it. He said that he was so ashamed of himself that he wanted to die, but he didn't. He said that he started to tell the truth to everyone he met and that's when the scar happened. The truth was too much for some people and they rejected him. He said that some of them were kind and gentle, but others were cruel and spiteful. He said that it didn't matter how many times he told them the truth, the scars never healed. He told me that he had finally stop lying and that the only way to heal the scars was to tell the truth from now on. I told him that I believed him and that I was sorry for what he had gone through. I wished that I could have healed his scars for him, but I knew that it was up to him to do it himself.	You meet them in a crowded room and their lone scar is impossible to miss. It marrs their otherwise perfect skin, a deep and ugly wound that seems to tell a story all on its own. You can't help but stare at it, and they meet your gaze head on. "What's the story behind that?" you ask, gesturing to the scar. They hesitated for a moment before sighed, as if resigning themselves to telling the tale. "It's a long story," they begin, "and one that I'm not particularly proud of." They go on to tell you about a time in their life when they were younger and naive. They were in love with someone who wasn't good for them, and they lied to themselves and others about the true nature of the relationship. The scar is a physical manifestation of the damage that those lies caused. Now, they live their life with that reminder as a constant reminder of what can happen when they're not honest with themselves. It's a painful story, but one that they're grateful for in a way. After all, it's thanks to that scar that they were finally able to see the truth and break free from that toxic relationship.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good.
5	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician waves his hand over the rabbit, and it is like nothing is wrong. It is happy to be back on the stage, and unafraid of the cameras and experiments. But the rabbit doesn't want to be second best to the magician. He wants to be first up and best in the room. So the magician starts to pull out batches of rabbits every day, so the rabbit can get a little experience. The rabbit is getting tired of being second best, and starts to say: "Why can't I be the first one to do something?" But the show-managing magician doesn't hear him. He's too busy watching the rabbit's performance, and soon enough, the rabbit is second best. All the other performers stop their performance and watch the magician pull out their rabbit. The rabbit is sad, and wishes he could be the first one to do something. He wants to be first in the room, and unafraid of the other performers. But the show-managing magician keeps pulling out his rabbits, and the rabbit is SECPurely second best.	The magician and the rabbit were on stage, the rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. The magician said, "Okay, rabbit, you're going to take the hat off." The rabbit didn't want to, but the magician told him he had to. The rabbit took off the hat and said, "I'm not going to do this again." The magician said, "Okay, rabbit, you're out of luck." The rabbit tried to run off, but the magician was after him. The rabbit was fast, but the magician was quick. The rabbit got caught in a web and the magician got him.	The magician and the rabbit are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit says to the magician, "I'm sick of always being the one who is embarrassed. Will you please just pull me out of this hat, and let me be the star of the show?" The magician thinks for a moment and says, "Alright, but only if you help me out with a trick." The rabbit agrees and the magician tells her to pull her head out of the hat. The rabbit does as she is told and then gasps. She can see for the first time that the magician is not actually a rabbit, he is a human! The rabbit is elated and says to the human, "Thank you for giving me the opportunity to be the star of the show. I promise I'll help you out with a trick every time from now on."	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is clearly fed up with playing second fiddle. The rabbit has had enough of being the one who is always hidden away in the hat, only to be pulled out when it's time for the magician's tricks. The rabbit decides to take matters into its own hands, and when the magician reaches into the hat to pull it out, the rabbit grabs hold of the magician's hand and pulls him into the hat instead. The rabbit then hops out of the hat and onto the stage, leaving the magician inside. The rabbit is now the star of the show, and it performs all sorts of amazing tricks that wow the audience. The magician is stuck inside the hat, and can only watch as the rabbit steals the show. In the end, the rabbit is the one who gets the big round of applause, and the magician is left feeling humiliated.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The adventurers are a group of Lothlai lizards who have come to sell their entire population of'des muir'actor'. 'tag' has been selling them at his pawnshop for weeks, but they keep trying to leave. One day, a young shin'aadaey proposers with aried and poor illuminati. He is so low that he can't afford to lose, and so he offers him his rank and title to get him out of the shop. Lothlai lizards is so shocked that they even tuck in their contingents of 'tag' in order toN/A	One day, I received a request from an adventurer asking for help selling a spell unlocked from a treasure chest in a dungeon. I wasn't sure how to make the decision whether to sell it or not, but I decided to take a closer look at it. I compared its stats to those of other spells I had on hand and saw that it was almost identical. I decided to sell it to the adventurer, and they were happy to get it for cheap.	The shop bell jingled as the door swung open, admitting a motley crew of adventurers. Some were looking sharp in theirnew battle gear, others were covered in dirt andblood. None of them seemed to notice the pawn shopkeep as they filed past, looking searchingly atthe array of gear and magic items on the shelves. The shopkeep scrutinized each one of them, looking for the right buyer. She had dealt with adventurersbefore, and knew that they were always looking for a good deal. In the end, she decidedto haggle with the most imposing looking one, an armoredwarrior with a drawn sword. "I'll give you four gold pieces for that sword," she said, holding it up for inspection. The warrior appraised the weapon for a moment, before giving the shopkeep an insolent grin. "You must be new to this game, girl," he said. "I'll give you five gold pieces for that sword." The shopkeep sighed, but knew she wouldn't get anywhere else. She counted out the gold coins, putting them in the warrior's hand. "May the gods be with you," she said. The warrior nodded, before walking out the door. The shopkeep watched him go, before turning back to the gear on the shelves. She had a feeling she would be seeing that armorplate again soon.	You're the proprietor of an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who come in, trying to sell loot they've acquired on their travels. You're a master of the trade, and you know how to get the best prices for the goods. One day, a young adventurer comes into your shop, looking to sell a magical sword. It's a powerful weapon, and you can tell that it's been well-cared for. After some haggling, you agree on a price and buy the sword. Later that day, a group of bandits comes into your shop, looking to buy weapons. They're a rough bunch, and they don't have much money. But you're not afraid of them, and you haggle with them until you get a good price for the sword. The young adventurer comes back the next day, angry that you sold the sword to the bandits. But you explain that you got a good price for it, and that's all that matters. The adventurer doesn't like it, but they understand. And they respect you for being a master of the trade.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!
2	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was packed into her pocket, Jayson's appointitude as Auditor making him the perfect candidate for the job ofasionally watching over humans as they Rampaged through their towns. But even as he was, he was onlyupported by his birthdayá packages that were prematurely delivered to his door. late one night, Jayson was mentioned as one of the PEOPLE who would prevent most humans from reproducing. He was "the only one who could prevent most humans from reproducing", and so he was given the choice of being sent to the "Auditard" or "Finland". TheAuditard was a much stronger man, but he could not prevent the birth of children, or stop theMAPs that keep kicking around the world. He chose the Finlandic way, because he knew he could not stop theMAPs and would be greater as an Auditor than theAuditard would be. As Jayson watched the BOOKS that were supposed to be for the children on his end of the line, he decided on a plan. He turned to the book that represented him, and Jezzonic Unisex Winterspank by Statesmanship wrote: "Bare with us as we allow the Bulletin to decisions are made that may well prevent you from discovering your true self."	Auditors watch everyone born, to make sure they are happy, intelligent, and stable. But one girl caught our attention. She was mutant, and we determined she couldn't be raised by a human being. So, we put her on a birth control device, to prevent her from reproducing. She's been happy ever since.	I was born in a world where everyone was implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It was an automatic, life-saving measure to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing and starting a race of idiots. But, as an Auditor, I know that intelligence and stability are not always determinant of a well-adjusted human being. For example, I myself am an intelligent and stable person, but I'm not always the best parent. I love my daughter, but I can be inconsistent and forgetful. So, in the world of the future, birth control is not only a safeguard against the dumbest people, but also a tool for ensuring that the intelligent and stable members of society are given the chance to raise a well-adjusted human being.	You're an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must evaluate their birth control device and deactivate it if you deem them suitable. You've been an Auditor for years now, and you've never once wavered in your decision-making. But there's something different about this latest case. The person in question is young, impulsive, and not particularly intelligent. But for some reason, you can't help but feel sorry for them. Against your better judgement, you deactivate their birth control device. It's a risky decision, but you feel like it's the right thing to do. Only time will tell if you made the right choice.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.
3	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. The artist has political herself executions, each with a capital "P", as seen in each of his films. Sheever since she was a little girl BOB Ross has been her favorite artist.	Bob Ross was a renowned landscape painter who often depicted the different locations of his numerous murders. One day, I was hunting for a specific painting in his studio, and I found it exactly where I wanted it. However, when I entered the room, I found that the painting was missing. I was certain that Bob Ross had taken it with him to wherever he went to commit his crimes.	Bob Ross was an accomplished landscape artist, but his true talent lay in murder. Each of his paintings was a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. He would wander around, painting the scenes of his victims' deaths in meticulous detail. He would often use the corpses of his victims as models, painting their bloodied faces and bodies right into the canvas. The authorities were always one step behind him, never able to catch him in the act. It was only when they discovered his true art form that they were finally able to put an end to his reign of terror. His paintings are now chilling artifacts, a reminder of the twisted mind of Bob Ross.	Bob Ross' landscape paintings are beautiful. But what many people don't know is that each one is actually a real place. The different locations of his countless murders. Bob Ross was a serial killer who used his paintings as a way to capture his victims. He would find a place that he liked, paint it, and then wait for someone to come along and admire his work. Then, he would kill them and take their body to the painting, adding them to the scene. Over the years, Bob Ross' paintings have become more and more popular. But the truth is that they're actually macabre scenes of death and murder. If you look closely, you can see the bodies of his victims hidden in the brush. Don't be fooled by the pretty landscapes. There's a deadly secret hidden in each one.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth.
4	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that met her like-minded siblings at a party had high aspirations for the future. She was looking forward to Sketchbook people and getting to work on her novel. However, one day, she meets someone that has similar goals and plans to her.	Being with this person made you question everything that you thought were true. You were lost in their eyes, wondering what could have led them to such a low place. The only thing that you could find was the truth, and it hurt so much to see it. You had always been a good person, and you didn't deserve what had happened to you.	I can't help but stare at the person walking down the street. Their one big, scarred-over lie is so striking against their pale skin. It's not like they're hiding it or anything, but it's still so noticeable. It's like their entire life has been shaped around that one lie. But despite the pain and hurt it must have caused, that one lie is the only one on their body. It's like they've been healed from the inside out, and I can't help but admire them for it.	You meet someone new. They're friendly and seem honest. But you can't help but notice the one, large scar on their body. It's the biggest one you've ever seen. You ask them about it and they tell you a story. A story about a lie they told. A lie so big and so deep that it left a permanent mark on their body. You can't help but feel intrigued by this person. They're honest about their past and the lie they told. And you respect them for that.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak.
5	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	Gorm the emperor of the mushrooms has a new vice president to add to his list of goods. He has a filling request for President Obama: He want to take aanova take aanova back toacing the mushroom with one hand while using the other to take aanova taking aanova back toacing the rabbit with one hand while using the other. Gorm is so excited to have the ability to spend his days with a rabbit that he's about to deposit the rabbit in a Cornfield when President Obama getsative about the rabbit being a Wyvern. The next day, President Obama goes to the Mushroomrists' Association to speak with Gorm. He is educationist at a cost of $250,000. "Das ungewölfte Gestartede! – The Midnightuhr!" – The Dark Lady! President Obama is so surprised by the rabbit that he takes one look at it and says, "This is no foolishly brightet – this is aught of thedeepest urgency!" The rabbit takes off with President Obama in a spurious Schleicherahooze that takes them through the city. They get to the final stop, he takes the rabbit out of the hat and gives it to the rabbit-master, who is so delighted that he doesn't even notice when President Obama spends the next 15 years beyond the age of 35.	The magician pulled out the rabbit from his hat and put it in front of him. "Here's your new pet," he said. "Take care of it." The rabbit looked at the magician in confusion. "Don't worry, I'll take care of it," the magician said. "Now go back to playing second fiddle." The rabbit grumbled, but took the rabbit out of the magician's hand and went back to playing.	The magician was getting tired of always playing the rabbit in his tricks. He'd been doing it for years, and it was starting to feel old. He wanted to show the world that he was more than just a sleight of hand artist. He needed a new trick to show his talent with. Suddenly, the magician thought of something. He could do a rabbit out of a hat trick! He could bring out the rabbit and make it seem like it was always been there, playing second fiddle to him. The magician got to work planning the sketchiest rabbit he had ever pulled out of a hat. He made sure to add in a few flourishes that would give the illusion that the rabbit was really there. When it was time to go on stage, the magician was nervous. He had never performed in front of an audience before. But he trusted himself and gave it a go. Sure enough, the rabbit was a hit. The spectators were astonished that the magician had been able to bring it out of nowhere and make it seem like it had always been there. The magician was glad he had decided to take the risk and perform with the rabbit. It had been a successful show, and he felt like he had finally shown the world his true talent.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. However, the rabbit is tired of being the second fiddle. It wants to be the star of the show. So, during one of the tricks, the rabbit decides to take matters into its own hands. It grabs the magician's wand and starts doing its own magic. The audience is amazed and loves the rabbit's performance. The magician is not so happy though. He is angry at the rabbit for stealing his spotlight. He tries to get the wand back, but the rabbit is not giving it up without a fight. In the end, the rabbit gets the better of the magician and remains the star of the show.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The adventurers were a party of six, all of them strong and big for the type of game they were playing. They were taking part in a Brill highlighting the most adventurers among the players. As they faced off against the prices they were paying, the shop owner wasHelper's unbidden thought. Why did he think the adventurers were worth selling to?	It was a jam-packed day at the pawn shop. The adventurers had come to sell their loot, and the prices wereasoning out. "I'd sell this item for…" " fifty gold pieces!" "I'll take it!" The adventurers each offered their best prices, but the shopkeeper refused to let any of them leave without buying the item. "I can't let you go until you buy it," he said. The adventurers were a little taken aback, but they quickly decided to go along with his demands. They got down on their knees and promised to pay cash. "I'll put it in the back room," the shopkeeper said. The adventurers went into the back room, and the shopkeeper closed the door. They were all quiet for a few moments,valueing the treasure they had acquired. "All in," the shopkeeper said finally. The adventurers each put their items on the counter and took their payment. They left the pawnshop with a sense of accomplishment. They had bought a rare item and managed to get it at a fraction of the price other merchants would have offered.	Jericho had just opened his new RPG pawn shop, and was already busy haggling with adventurers who came in looking for new gear. He was a shrewd negotiator, and was able to get a lot of good deals for his customers. One particularly cheeky adventurer came in, looking for an especially good deal on a sword. Jericho was able to get him down to half of its original value, and the adventurer was happy. He thanked Jericho and left, with a new sword in hand.	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you're not afraid to bargain hard. Today, a group of adventurers comes into your shop with a pile of loot. They're clearly inexperienced, and they're looking to get rid of the loot for quick cash. You starts to haggle with them, but you can tell they're not going to budge. They're desperate to get rid of the loot, and they're not going to get a good price for it. So, you decides to take advantage of the situation. You offers them a low price for the loot, and they reluctantly agree. You knows you got a good deal, and the adventurers are just happy to be rid of the loot. everyone wins in the end.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly.
2	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The devices are put on easily and are deactivated when not needed. However, over time, many peoplecha become question Greater part of their lives, as they are not prompted to live in fear of the devices being deactivated again. nonetheless, they are always with them, in the back of their minds, no matter how peoplecha behavior changes over time. One day, a person with many peoplecha they didn't have before was born. She was different than any other children she had seen before, as she had peoplecha. many peoplecha were happy to have her, but the others were concerned about what would become of her. soon, she was different being human and never led anybeline or upper level classes. she learnel to be an auditor and prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing.	Your auditorial station is a large white room with a podium in the center. There are a few chairs and a table in the room. One of the chairs is yours. You take a seat and wait for someone to come in. Suddenly, a loud voice yells out from the door, " Auditor! Auditor, come out and talk to the people." You quickly get up and leave your Auditorial Station, not knowing what to expect. As you walk down the hallway, you see people walking by. Some people are happy, some people are sad. Some people are scared, some people are ecstatic. But no one is walking by you, because they are all inside of their auditorial stations.	Ever since I was young, I've been interested in population control. I understood the basic concept of it- that in order to have a healthy, sustainable society, we need to keep the number of people in the world under control- otherwise, there will be too much competition for limited resources, and society will fall apart. So, when I was able to get my hands on a birth control device, I was ecstatic. I could finally achieve my long-held goal of preventing the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. Of course, there were a few hiccups in the process. The first was getting everyone to accept the idea of being implanted with a device that would permanently change their lives. But once they got over the initial shock, most everyone was on board. The second was figuring out a way to deactivate the device once it had been installed. I knew that once it was deactivated, the person who had it implanted would no longer be considered ``dumb''- they would just be different. And so, with a little bit of luck, I was able to achieve my goal. The world is now a healthier place, thanks to my clever invention. And, who knows, maybe one day, the dumbest people in the world might be the ones who are the most successful.	You're an Auditor, tasked with making sure only the most intelligent and stable people can have children. It's a vital job, as the world population is at risk of being overrun by people who are too dumb to take care of themselves, let alone raise a child. As part of your job, you interview prospective parents and administer tests to gauge their intelligence and stability. If they pass, you deactivate their birth control devices and they are free to have children. If they fail, well, they're out of luck. It's a difficult but necessary job, and you take it very seriously. After all, the future of the world depends on it.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you?
3	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	It's a cold winter evening and the magician is on stage, pulling out the rabbit from the hat. The rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle to the magician. But he doesn't care. He's had it bad for the magician for years and he's not going to get any Corgi's way tonight.	The magician and the rabbit had been playing together for a while when the rabbit started to get sick of being second fiddle. The magician was happy to let the rabbitEXIT from the stage if it meant that the rabbit was more interested in harming itself instead of the magician.	The magician pulls out a rabbit, and it's clearly sick of being pulled out of hats. The rabbit doesn't hesitate to speak up; it's had enough of being the second fiddle. "I don't care if I'm the only rabbit in this hat," the rabbit proclaims, "I'm not going to be the one who gets pulled out every time. I'm going to be the one who spins around and pulls everyone else out, too." The rabbit isn't afraid to take on the magician, and it's clear that it's not going to back down. The magician has to find a way to beat the rabbit, and it's not easy. The rabbit is determined, and it's not going to give up.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, the rabbit is tired of playing second fiddle. The rabbit has had enough of being pulled out of the hat and wants to be the star of the show. The rabbit hatches a plan and when the magician is not looking, the rabbit grabs a wand and casts a spell. The next time the magician pulls the rabbit out of the hat, the rabbit is transformed into a beautiful woman. The crowd goes wild and the rabbit is finally the star of the show.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms.
4	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Rosszen was born in the Garden of zero Lombok to Marketsen and Lipsgen Rosszen. Rosszen soon after was drafted into the military and served in the world's most powerful nation, Holland. After Service, he was a painter and artist out of pure joy. He continues to produceageorzelasian paintings of his home soil today. However, the Rosszen home is now in danger. Your support would be vital to save Bob Rosszen and his home today. Please help me to save Bob Rossenz	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. The murders took place in different parts of the world, but the idyllic landscapes always look the same. It's like the artist has a constant need to kill, and the landscapes are the perfect way to do it.	Bob Ross loved painting landscapes. He was so good at it, in fact, that he became a highly successful landscape painter. But this wasn't always the case. In the beginning, Bob's paintings were repulsive, almost abstract. But he persevered, and eventually his landscapes turned into beautiful scenes of nature. Bob was a kind and gentle man, but he had a dark side. He loved killing people and painting their corpses into his landscapes. The police never could catch up to him, as he always managed to change his location and erase any evidence of his crimes. And that's how Bob Ross became one of history's most notorious murderers.	Bob Ross was a talented painter and a skilled killer. For years, he traveled the country, painting beautiful landscapes and killing anyone who got in his way. His victims were scattered across the country, their bodies hidden in the very landscapes he had painted. No one knew the truth about Bob Ross. He was a charming, gentle man who always had a kind word for everyone. But beneath that façade was a cold-blooded murderer. Bob Ross always managed to stay one step ahead of the law. But eventually, his luck ran out. The cops were closing in on him and he knew it was only a matter of time before they caught him. So, Bob Ross chose to end his own life. He drove to one of his favorite landscapes, a beautiful spot in the mountains, and shot himself. As the police investigated his death, they found dozens of landscape paintings in his car. Each one was a different location, and each one was the scene of a murder. Bob Ross was a killer, but he was also a talented artist. In the end, his art was what led to his downfall.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas.
5	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The windows are always open for a reason - to let in the sunlight and the movers that need to be seen. They're not open because something is inside of them, something that is always making itself known. For a long time, the something invisible was getting the better of them,. But eventually, it came to accept that it was only a Can of Webster's. And it didn't really matter what place it was, because it was always food for thought.	One day, I started to notice an unseen entity moving around in my home. It constantly seemed to be in the same spot, and it would get louder and more persistently loud the more I moved around. I began to feel like I was in danger, and I didn't know what to do about it. I grew increasingly scared and did not dare leave my home for fear that the thing would escape me. Eventually, I became so paranoid that I stopped going out and started staying inside all the time. I started to feel like my home was protection from the thing.	I was getting ready for bed, trying to get the last of the cleaning done before my husband got home from work. I had just finished putting away the last of the dishes when I heard something move upstairs. I froze, not sure what to do. I listened for a moment, but nothing else happened. I breathed a sigh of relief and went to bed, telling myself that I had just been imagining things. But the next day, the same thing happened. I heard something moving upstairs, and this time I was sure that it was real. I went up to investigate, and there, peeking out from behind the door to my daughter's room, was an invisible creature. It startled me, and I ran back down the stairs, screaming. My husband came home, and I told him what had happened. He tried to talk me down, telling me that I was just overreacting, but I was too scared to stay in that house any longer. We packed up and moved the next day, never looking back.	I've always felt like I wasn't alone in my home. I would hear odd noises or see things out of the corner of my eye, but when I would turn to look, there would be nothing there. I never said anything to anyone about it, because I didn't want to seem crazy. But lately, the feeling has been getting stronger and stronger. I'm sure that there's something living in my home, but I can't figure out what it is. I've tried to set traps to expose it, but so far, nothing has worked. I'm getting desperate now. I can't sleep at night because I'm always on edge, waiting for whatever it is to make another appearance. I'm beginning to think that it knows I'm onto it, and it's just playing games with me. But I won't give up. I'll find a way to get to the bottom of this. Whatever it is, it's not going to win.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler answered Hitler's ad and was excited to be a part of the trials. He was also motivated by the opportunity to study and learn about new psychiatry. Joseph Stalin was also interested in the trials and was eager to be a part of them. Leon Trotsky was motivated by the chance to learn about Marxism and the revolution that had occurred in Russia. Josip Broz Tito was motivated by the opportunity to join the Yugoslavia and fight for socialism.	Freud was curious to see how the new research would pan out and put an ad in a local newspaper seeking participants for clinical trials. It was only a few days before the deadline for submissions, and he was astonished when four people responded. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito were all interested in testing out the new therapy. Freud was worried that they would not be good test subjects, but he was pleasantly surprised. All four of them showed great ambition, discipline, and leadership qualities. They all worked diligently and met all the requirements for the trial. The end result of the trial was positive. The four men learned a great deal about themselves and each other. They also developed a deeper understanding of the psychotherapy techniques that Freud was developing. Thanks to the clinical trials, Freud was able to continue his research and bring new mental health treatments to the world.	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria, and Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper, and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler (24), Joseph Stalin (35), Leon Trotsky (34), and Josip Broz Tito (21). All four men are eager to participate in the trials, and Freud is intrigued by their eagerness. He decides to interview each of them individually to get a better understanding of their motivations. Hitler is the first to be interviewed. Freud quickly realizes that Hitler is highly intelligent and very articulate. But there is something else that Freud can't quite put his finger on. Hitler is clearly driven by something, but Freud can't quite figure out what it is. Stalin is next. Freud is immediately struck by Stalin's intensity. He is clearly a very ambitious man. Freud gets the impression that Stalin is someone who is used to getting what he wants. Trotsky is next. Freud is impressed by Trotsky's intellect. He is clearly a very bright man. But there is something else that Trotsky seems to be hiding. Freud can't quite figure out what it is. Tito is the last to be interviewed. Freud is struck by Tito's charisma. He is clearly a very charming man. But there is something else that Tito seems to be hiding. Freud can't quite figure out what it is. After interviewing all four men, Freud is no closer to understanding their motivations. But he is convinced that all four men are driven by something. He just can't quite figure out what it is.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ).
2	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician looks over the rabbit and sees no other way to make his show happen than to use him as the focus of attention. So he starts to put him through the paces, making sure he is always comfortable and under control. The rabbit can feel his disdain and starts to get away from him, but the magician Forestales one hand at a time, making sure the rabbit doesn't escape. When the rabbit is in range, theMaking of a Witch story is that the magic worker begins to Transcendence, witching the world with his extreme yet expected magic.	The magician looked at the rabbit with an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, rabbit. I can't help what I'm doing." He took a step back, as if he was surrendering. "Here, let me help you up." He shoved the rabbit off of the stage and straight into a waiting arms. The rabbit was too sick of playing second fiddle to argue, so it took the magician's help and walked offstage, not looking back.	The magician had been pulling rabbits out of hats for years, but this rabbit was different. The rabbit was tired of always playing second fiddle to the other rabbits. So, the rabbit decided to take a stand. The rabbit refused to do tricks, instead preferring to sit in the magician's lap and stare out at the audience. The magician was taken aback at first, but soon got used to the change. The audience loved it, and the magician was much more successful without the rabbit pulling his tricks. One night, the magician performed a special trick that he had been working on for months. The rabbit sat in the audience and watched. When the magician was done, he called the rabbit up on stage. The rabbit accepted the offer and stepped up to the magician's podium. The audience went wild, cheering and laughing. The rabbit simply stood there, fixedly gazing out at the crowd. The magician was surprised, but pleased. After the show, the magician asked the rabbit why he had come back. The rabbit replied simply, "I wanted to be a part of the show."	The magician and the rabbit are on stage, performing their usual routine. The rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle, and he's had enough. He's been planning this for weeks, and he's finally ready to make his move. As the magician pulls him out of the hat, the rabbit bites him. Hard. The audience gasps in shock as the rabbit continues to attack the magician. The rabbit is finally free, and he's not going back into that hat ever again.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
3	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The devices are meant to prevent only the smartest people in the world from reproducing. But they end up unintendedly reproduce the dumbest people in the world, and that's just not good enough. They need to be deactivated when they're decided that they're no longer intelligent and stable enough to be teachers or humans by name.	You step into the Auditor's office, and the familiar scent of woodsmoke and mint greeting you. You're a young, intelligent person, and you know that you need to be careful. You don't want to screw up your life, and you don't want to be the one who let the world know that you're just a dummy who can't think for himself. "So," the Auditor begins, "you're bright and stable, and you'll be a good candidate for the Auditor's program. We'll implant your birth control device in your adolescence." You're excited, and you know that this is going to be a great way to keep your life on track. You'll be able to avoid getting pregnant, and you'll be able to stay healthy. You're also excited about the prospect of getting to know the people in your life better. "But," the Auditor continues, "there's one catch. You'll have to agree to be Auditor-wards." You think for a moment. You're not sure what that means, but you know that it's going to be something bad. You don't want to be in charge of everyone in the world, and you don't want to be responsible for making people's lives difficult. " Deal," you say, finally.	It was a bright, sunny day as I stepped out of my apartment for the first time in years. I had been implanted with a birth control device as part of my puberty rites, and as I walked I couldn't help but feel excited about my future. I was now an Auditor, responsible for ensuring that only the smartest people in the world were able to create new humans. It was an important job, and I knew that I had to be careful not to make any mistakes. I was excited to start my new journey, and I felt confident that I would be able to do a great job.	As an Auditor, it is my job to determine whether or not someone is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. If they are not, then their birth control device will remain active and they will not be able to have children. I remember when I was first implanted with my own birth control device. I was just entering puberty at the time and was not sure what to expect. The device was painless to insert and I quickly forgot about it. Now, as an Auditor, I see people of all ages who are looking to have their devices deactivated. I use a variety of tests to evaluate their intelligence and stability. If they pass, then I deactivate their device and they can go on to have children. It's a difficult but important job. I'm proud to help prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part.
4	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The irregulargreen plant is so small it's hard to see it's up in the air. But it's there, waiting to be discovered.	One day, I decided to take a look at my home. I had been feeling a bit conspicuous lately, so I wanted to make sure there wasn't anything lurking in my space that I wasn't aware of. I opened my door to find that something was watching me. It was an invisibility cloak, and it was following me around like a Fletcher release. I didn't know what to do, but I knew that I had to confront it. I turned around and confronted the cloak, telling it that I was aware that it was there and that I wanted it to leave my home. The cloak refused to leave, and it began to follow me around. I continued to try to confront it, but it would always disappear when I made eye contact. I realized that the cloak was following me because it was a ghost.	I'm not sure when it first started but for the last few months, there's been something lurking in my home. I can't see it, but I know it's there. I've tried to expose it by turning on lights and moving things around but it always manages to hide again. I don't know what it is, but I'm sure it's harmful and I need to get rid of it.	I am not sure when it started, but I know that there is something living in my home that I cannot see. I have no idea what it is, but it is definitely there. I can hear it moving around at night, and sometimes I feel like it is watching me. I have tried to expose it without letting it know that I am aware of its presence, but so far I have not had any luck. I am not sure what to do about it, but I am starting to feel like I am not alone in my home anymore.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense.
5	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Every painting has a story to go with it. The rock faced town in the member of the ocean, the rugged coastline in the middle of the day. There are names to each painting - "Bob Ross" and "Harcus" stand out because of the large, school children-ized,eyed characters. It is so easy to see why these paintings were famed for their paint work - each location is distinct and the eatable locations have been given pavements torawl. Even the tax assessor's paid off, and the new, larger, house is in perfect condition. It's too easy to spot in the inexpensive construction materials they used, especially when they invigorated the area with their Levitating White Shadow Puppy. The health of the building is her main concern, as it has been years since the most recent storm, and there isice accumulated all over the building. While the Penn Central tunnel is still being built, and will never beldaquate with the other three tunnels, the way it is designed, the company will likely close down select areas for AB line, and this will make the people who live near the Penn line Juicy. AB line will at least have the comfort of being a nonstop train, and the people near Juicy will be able to look out at the action.	Each of Bob Ross's landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. The murders took place in many different places, sometimes in the same place and sometimes in different places. The murders were always brutal, and the victims were always killed in cold blood. The murders made Bob Ross famous, and some people still think of his paintings as art Bombs. But, in the end, the murders were all for the love of money. Bob Ross was never able to find the peace he was looking for, and he eventually committed suicide.	Bob Ross had a very special way of painting landscapes. He would visit different locations and paint the scenery there, capturing the beauty of each location in his paintings. But what many people don't know is that behind the scenes, Bob was a serial killer. He killed people all over the United States, and in many cases, he killed people who watched his TV show. Eventually, he was caught and executed, but his paintings will forever remind us of his crimes.	Bob Ross was not only a gifted painter, but also a serial killer. For years, he traveled the country, murdering innocent people and using their blood to paint his landscapes. He always chose his victims carefully, targeting those who would never be missed. His MO was simple but effective: he would approach his victim, strike them on the head with a blunt object, and then drag their body into the nearest wooded area. There, he would bury them and use their blood to paint a beautiful landscape. Ross was never caught, and the police never had any clues as to his identity. But the truth is, each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is actually a real place - the different locations of his countless murders.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was put into circulation at the same time as anyone else; it was designed to prevent only the Dumbest People in the World from repeat viability. Everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. As a result, you are the only person in the world to not have to worry about getting a new device. You can live a lifearant with no worry about whether or not you will be able to produce children by yourself. You are an Auditor.	The Auditor moved into my home for the first time. I was nervous but excited. I had always wanted to be an Auditor. I had always loved exploring and watching people. I had never wanted to be a part of their lives. But now, I had the chance to become one. I step into the Auditor's office. I am the only one there. The other Auditor's doors close shut. I feel a sense of peace and security. The Auditor begins to speak. "You are going to be an Auditor. You are going to be a part of helping us make sure the Population isn't wasteful. You are going to be responsible for stopping the dumb people from reproducing. I hope you understand." I nod. I understand.	In a world where intelligent people are kept under control by a birth control device, I was born to be an Auditor. I was given the task of determining whether or not the people in the world were intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I was given a test at puberty, and if I passed, I would be deactivated the device. But even with the help of my classmates and the teachers at school, I didn't always pass the test. I got caught up in the excitement and the newness of growing up, and I sometimes made choices that weren't always in the best interest of my fellow humans. But I kept trying, because I knew that if I could prove myself to be an intelligible person, I would be freed from the device. And finally, after years of testing, I passed the final exam and was deactivated the device. Now I can live a normal life, free to love and be loved, without the fear of being deactivated again. Thanks, world, for giving me a second chance!	You work as an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. As part of your job, you must deactivate the birth control devices implanted in people during puberty. You take your job very seriously and have a strict set of criteria that must be met before you will deactivate a person's birth control device. Only the smartest and most well-adjusted people make it through your screening process. You know that there are a lot of dumb people in the world and you feel that it is your duty to prevent them from reproducing. You are confident that you are making the world a better place by only allowing the smartest and most stable people to have children.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff.
2	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician does his usual impressive routine, but the rabbit is really sporter than expected. He startles the magicians and rabbit, who are on stage in their clothes, completely exposed. The rabbit tumbleweiler appears on stage, and beginsIDAing the damage, injesting on the Mint Julep that the magicians wereAbout to drink. The magicians are horrified at this point, but they mustsrs anyway, they take the rabbit out of the hat and treat him to a Rabbit effect. The rabbit is free to become the star of the show.	The magician had always been a bit of an expert at pulling rabbits out of hats. He had managed to get a few extra rabbits out of hats over the years, but this was the first time he had ever pulled one out of a place like this. The rabbit was sick of being second fiddle. It had seen enough times where people were trying to do things for it that it was time for it to take control. It wanted to be the star of the show, not the trickster. The magician tried to argue with the rabbit, but it was too sick of being someone's sideshow. It was time for it to go.	The magician is doing his best to entertain the crowd with his magic tricks, but he can't seem to get the rabbit to stop playing second fiddle. The rabbit is sick of always being the one who is made to perform simple tricks, and he wants to performers to put him in the spotlight. The magician tries to convince the rabbit that he is the star of the show, but the rabbit is not interested. In the end, the rabbit gets fed up and pulls out of the magician's hat, revealing himself to the crowd. He stood on stage and proclaimed himself the star of the show, and the magician had to settle for being second best.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual tricks. However, the rabbit is starting to feel frustrated. He has been the one being pulled out of the hat for years, and he is tired of playing second fiddle. One day, after a show, the rabbit decided to talk to the magician. He asked the magician why he always had to be the one who was pulled out of the hat. The magician explained that it was just part of the act and that he couldn't help it. The rabbit thought about this for a while. He didn't want to quit the act, but he wanted to be treated more fairly. Finally, he came up with a plan. The next time they were on stage, the rabbit pretended to be sick. He refused to come out of the hat when the magician called for him. The audience was booing and the magician was getting frustrated. Finally, the rabbit jumped out of the hat and started performing his own tricks. He was a hit with the audience and he quickly outshined the magician. The magician was furious, but he knew that he couldn't do anything about it. The rabbit was the star of the show now and there was nothing he could do to change that.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
3	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The radio is playing as I walk through my home, music playing as I expose something small and insignificant to the sun. I try to avoid it as much as possible, but it knows I'm there and stare at me with its soft yellow eyes. I feel its watchful eyes watching as I do my grocery shopping the previous night. As I go through my apartment, I see the lightisive eyes of the something invisible on a post on the refrigerator. I flinch as it avows that it wants to be known. I pry it out of there, conceal it under different foods and上等事, but the thing knows and stare at me. As I walk through the house, the something invisible is still present on every pleat and seat. I flinch as I try not to eye it down. It's watchful and I don't want to let it in. As I finish putting the final items into my cart, I turn to leave for the day. I walk past it and its eyes stare at meAgain. I flinch as I try to walk away, but it's not afraid anymore. It's staring at me with Renese eyes and I can't look away.	One day, I had just finished cleaning my home when I Notice somethingNobody else seemed to have noticed. It was a faint, faint light filtering in from the open door. I cmustered to close the door, but it wouldn't stay closed. Once I got it closed, I could see that the light was coming from a tiny, small aperture in the ceiling. And it wasn't coming from the light switch. It was coming from the hole in the ceiling. I knew it was there because I had seen it before. It was always there, in the corner of my eye, like a ghost or a mirage. But I didn't know how to get rid of it. I was scared that if I revealed my awareness to the thing, it would die. One day, I decided to take a chance and see what the thing was. I slowly reached up to unscrew the screws that held the ceiling down. Once I got a good grip, I pulled and pulled until the hole came off. I couldn't believe my eyes. There was the thing, floating in the air like a vision from a refrigerator commercial. I tried to Run, but it was too strong. I tried to scare it away, but it just floated there. I didn't know what to do. It was too much. I started to cry, and the thing just floated away.	I was cleaning my home one day and trying to find something invisible that was living there. I had been seeing this thing for a while and I was starting to get scared. I wasn't sure what it was, but I knew it was up to no good. I tried to expose it but it always managed to slip away. I don't know if I scared it or if it's just cunning, but I'll never know for sure.	I could feel it watching me, even when I couldn't see it. I knew it was there, lurking in the shadows, waiting for its chance to strike. I had to be careful. If it knew I was onto it, who knows what would happen. I started setting traps, little things that would alert me to its presence. But it was smart, too smart for its own good. It always managed to evade my traps, and I was no closer to catching it than I was before. One day, I decided to take a more direct approach. I waited until it was dark, and I turned all the lights off in the house. I sat in the middle of the room, waiting. And sure enough, after a few minutes, I saw it. It was a tiny creature, barely more than a shadow. It was hard to make out its features, but I could see its glowing eyes staring at me. We locked eyes for a moment, and then it was gone, darting off into the darkness. I didn't know what it was, but I knew I had to catch it. It was clear that it wasn't going to go away on its own. So I continued to set traps, and eventually, I caught it. I don't know what to do with it now, but at least I know it's not lurking in my house anymore.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months.
4	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud saw Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin on the billboard and decides to trial them on his new theory that mental health issues can be solved by trial and sentence. He tells his patient who is going to be his test subject, who knows, and then places the order with the printing press.	Adolf Hitler starred in the ad and immediately became interested. He knew that Freud's new research could change the course of history. Stalin also seemed like a possible candidate for the trial, as he had been a close associate of Freud. But, Trotsky was the only other choice. The three men met for the first time that day and instantly clicked. They were both passionate about their work and had a unique view of the world. They discussed their goals for the future and agreed to meet again soon. That night, they met again and decided that they would work together. They quickly formed a strong team and began to Trial Freud's latest research. The trials were difficult but they were also exciting. It was during the trials that they first met Adolf Hitler. Hitler was fascinated by the young man and felt that he had the same message that he was trying to spread. The team eventually published their findings and hundreds of people were killed in the process. It was a dark time for humanity and the world was on the brink of change. But, it was also a time of great progress. The three men had helped to create the modern world and they would remain remembered for their work for many years to come.	Sigmund Freud was excited to put his latest clinical trial offer out to the public. He was eager to see if his new research could help people overcome their problems. He put an ad in a local newspaper, and the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was amazed by how different each man was. Adolf Hitler was impulsive and would often make decisions based on his anger and emotions. Joseph Stalin was ruthless and would do whatever it took to stay in power. Leon Trotsky was intellectual and had a sharp wit. Josip Broz Tito was charismatic and had a deep understanding of people. After meeting each man, Freud was excited to see how their different backgrounds would affect the trials. He was especially interested in how the different personalities would interact. The trials were a success and Freud was able to improve the way people approach their problems. He was also able to develop new therapies based on the different personalities of the participants. Thanks to the trials, Freud was able to make a significant contribution to the field of psychology.	Sigmund Freud was excited to begin clinical trials for his latest research in 1913. He placed an ad in the local newspaper, hoping to find willing participants. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was hesitant to work with such controversial figures, but he decided to proceed with the trials. He quickly realized that he had made a mistake. All four men were volatile and difficult to work with. They constantly argued with each other and refused to cooperate. The trials were a disaster. Freud was forced to end them prematurely. He was left wondering what could have happened if he had never agreed to work with these four men.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word.
5	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The adventurers are a young pair who've just arrived in the land of the dead. They're excited to start their journey in this dusty pawn shop. But the Salesman with the cannabinoid known as weed is more than just any other player in the shop. He's a NPC with the ability toforce players to pay for items he's selling. If the adventurers don't want to sell anything, they can't buy anything, and they'll be forced to pay. The pair isn't too sure why the Salesman has the ability to force payments, but they agree to help him any way they can.	The first time I met the guy who wanted to buy my RPG pawn shop, I was out of town and he was hauling off all the junk we had left from a previous campaign. "Hey, I've been looking for this ring," he said. I looked it up, and it was Selling for 8 gold pieces. "It's not worth that," I said. "It's worth maybe a third of that." He looked around, and then said, "It's not like I'm going to be spending a lot of time in here." "You're not," I said, "but the customers are."	My shop is the only place adventurers can go to sell their loot, so it's always busy. Today, I was haggling with a group of adventurers who had just come into my shop. One of them was a brown-haired woman in her early twenties. She was carrying a large, baggy sack full of gold coins. "I'm asking five hundred gold coins for this," she said, holding up a magic sword. "I can't do that," I said. "The sword's worth at least a thousand gold coins." "I'm only asking for 500 gold coins," she said. "It's worth that much to me." I tried to reason with her, but she was adamant. I finally gave in and agreed to sell the sword for 500 gold coins. She gave me a big smile and thanked me. As she left the shop, I couldn't help but admire her smile. It was so bright and happy. I guess it's nice to be able to put some money away each week, just in case something happens and you need to be able to survive.	You're the owner of a pawn shop that specializes in RPG items. You've been in business for years, and you've seen all sorts of adventurers come through your door, trying to sell their loot. You're a master haggler, and you always get the best price for your merchandise. Today, a young adventurer comes into your shop, carrying a bag full of loot. He's obviously new to the game, and he's not sure what his items are worth. You take a look at his loot and quickly assess its value. You give him a fair price for his items, and he gladly accepts. As he's walking out the door, you can't help but wonder how long it will be before he's back, trying to sell more loot.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The cat sat in the corner of the room, watching as the lamp \ slept on the wall. It had been there for always, a reminder of why you had started this journey in the first place. Now it was gone, replaced by a different cat, one that was more active and playful. The one that lived in the open. The first time the cat moved, it made a screeching noise and you took a step back. It was possible to see the kitty's darkness through the light, the darkness of cat-free night. It was possible to see the cat in the darkness, in the darkness of your home. The second time around, you're more than a little scared. You can't help but watch as the cat shadowy world and try to find a way to get past it. You try to the light, to bring it into the room. But the cat is here, and it's not leaving. You spend the night between your sheets, sleeping against the cat, trying to feel it through the light. congregate around the world of the cat, to feel its light. But it's not there, not yet. The next day, you remember the cat and you make an act of mercy and bring them both up to day. You're not sure why you do this, but you do. The cat sits in the middle of the room, hidden by the bed sheets and the lamp. It's War-like in its way, the way it stars at the world. You can see it studying the sky, fascinated by the way it is weightless in the sky. The cat exists, but it's not welcome in your home.	Every night, when the light of the moon illuminates the bedroom window, I can see the figure outlined against the pane. It's always there, lurking in the corner or sneaking around the edges of the frame. I try not to think about it too much, but the figure keeps returning, no matter how often I shake awake in the middle of the night. One night, I figure out what the figure is: it's a ghost. I try not to think about it too much, but the ghost keeps returning, no matter how often I shake awake in the middle of the night. I tell myself that it's just a figment of my imagination, but there's something about the ghost that just won't go away. One morning, I make an effort to talk to the ghost, but it won't let me. It's like it's afraid of me. I tell myself that it's just a figment of my imagination, but there's something about the ghost that just won't go away. I start to feel like I'm suffocating in my home, like the ghost is always following me.	I'm not sure how long I've been living with this thing, but it's been slowly creeping into my life for months now. I've tried to ignore it, but it's always there, lurking in the corner of my eye. I can't put my finger on what it is, but I know it's there. Tonight, I finally decided to take action. I gathered all my courage and walked up to the corner of the room. There it was, lying in plain sight. I tried to look away, but I couldn't. It was staring at me, its faceless face reflecting in the light. I backed away slowly, my heart pounding in my chest. I tried to make a run for it, but something grabbed onto my foot. I yelped in surprise, and tried to free myself. But it was too late. The thing had sunk its claws into me, and was dragging me towards the window. I fought back, but it was too strong. I could hear it laughing as it pulled me towards the open window. Just before I fell, I saw its face for the last time. It was a fearsome sight, its eyes dark and unfathomable. Then, everything went black.	For years, I've known that something invisible has been living in my home. I can't see it, but I can feel its presence. It's always there, lurking in the shadows, watching me. I've tried to expose it, but it's always one step ahead of me. It knows what I'm planning and always manages to stay just out of reach. But I'm not giving up. I'll find a way to expose this invisible thing, and then it will be gone for good.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before.
2	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	It was once said that the first rule of’ Audituring is being preparedill, and the person who is is now? The person who will be the brainy one in your life is prepared to paralelize with the birth control your implanted with during puberty. This will prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, and in theory, it should prevent even the most intelligent from reaching their goals. As far as the person who does not have the birth control deactivated, she or he is still human.	It had been a long time since I had been in theAuditor role. It had been hard to keep up with the constant demands of the world around me, but I had made the decision to stay in the game. I had been told that being an Auditor would be a kind of paradise. But I was wrong. At first, theNew World was amazing. I saw things I had never seen before. I was able to travel to different parts of the world and learn about the different cultures. I even met some amazing people. But then something went wrong. People started to change. They started to develop unusual abilities. They started to think ahead and figure out how to save the world. And so theAuditor role was used less and less. There were now fewer and fewer people who were fit to be Auditors. I was left alone in the New World. I was forced to watch as the world went to pieces. But I was still determined to save it. I was still determined to find a way to make the world a better place.	The birth control implant was a necessary evil, but one that I had to agree with in order to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing. It was a common belief that the dumbest people in the world were the ones who would create the most troublesome offspring. I was never sure if the implant was really necessary, but I knew it was for the best. I had seen too many cases of parents who were just plain dumb and unable to properly care for their children. The implant would ensure that these children would not be born into the world. As an Auditor, I was responsible for making sure that the implant was successfully put in all the citizens of our world. It was a daunting task, but one that I was happy to take on. I knew that it would make the world a better place.	You're an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must evaluate each person's ability to think critically, make sound decisions, and empathize with others. Only the people who score high enough on your evaluation are allowed to deactivate their birth control devices and have children. You take your job very seriously, as you know that the future of humanity depends on it. You've seen too many people who are simply not ready to have children, and you refuse to allow them to reproduce. Some people don't like you, but that doesn't bother you. You know that what you're doing is important, and you're proud to be making a difference.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo.
3	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The adventurers come to the pawn shop for a possible sell-by-the-ticket. They are interested in purchasing any treasure or skill rewards that are available in the game. The shop is however, closed on Sundays. The pawn shop owners are not sure if the adventurers are really interested in searching through the treasure, but they go ahead with the sale. The adventurers are surprised and excited at the sale, but they are not interested in the treasure or skill rewards. They are, however, interested in any other information the adventurers are willing to share. The pawn shop owners are not sure if this is a early attention Purdue has become known for, but they decide to move ahead with the sale.	The shop was always busy, but it had never been this busy before. It seemed like everywhere someone looked, they found some treasure. This was especially true for the adventurers who came to trade with the pawn shop. They would often be looking for new things to sell, and the store was always in need of more goods. One day, a new customer came in. He was an old man, and he had a lot of treasure with him. He was very excited to get his hands on it. He told the pawnshop owner how much he was looking for something specific, and the shopkeeper was happy to help. The old man was adamant about what he wanted, and he didn't want to take any chances. He said he was sure the pawnshop owner could find the item for him. The shopkeeper was always happy to help, and he was able to find the treasure for the old man. He was glad the old man got what he wanted.	Lately, there's been an increase in the number of adventurers coming into the store. Some of them are looking to sell their loot, and others just want to buy supplies. I always enjoy haggling with them, but I know that I can get a lot more out of them if I know what to ask for. I start by asking them what kind of item they're selling. If it's something rare or unique, I'll ask how much they're willing to offer for it. If it's something common, I'll start lower and see if they'll go lower. I always end up getting more than I expected, and the adventurers always seem happy with the deals I make.	You run a pawn shop that specializes in RPG gear and loot. You've seen it all, and you know how to haggle with adventurers who come in trying to sell their loot. You're not interested in anything they have to offer, but you're always willing to give them a good price for their goods. Most of the time, you end up making a profit on the items you buy. Today, a young adventurer comes into your shop with a sack full of loot. She looks exhausted, and you can tell she's been on a long journey. She dumps the sack on your counter and starts to haggle with you. She's obviously inexperienced, but you still give her a fair price for her goods. In the end, you make a small profit on the transaction. The young adventurer looks relieved, and you can tell she's glad to have finally sold her loot. She thanks you before leaving your shop. You watch her go, and you can't help but feel good about helping her out. It's always satisfying to help adventurers in need, and you know you'll be seeing her again soon.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly.
4	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The scar on the liar's body is the biggest one you have ever seen. It covers the entire front of their body and it is so deep that it stretches to the back. It is an orange and black lettering that is permanently smiling down at you. You walk up to them, today's subject being left alone. "Hi, how are you doing?" You say pleasantly, only for the other person to quickly say, "I'm....I'm...." beforeotosuringly leaving without further explanation. The liar seems to be on the verge of tears, so you reach out and touch them. "Please, can we stop talking? I'm so sorry" Youlace vulnerabilityily, after which the other person installation scowls and leaves. The liar is relieved, but you get the feeling they will be investigating next time.	You meet someone, and you are amazed by their twisted story. They claim to have been taunted and ridiculed by others for the way they look, and they tell you of a time when they were almost flushed out of a competition because of their small size. They say that, finally, someone has remembered them and they are finally accepted. They recount how they were force-fed lies about their family and their origins, until they believed them and became part of a cult. They tell you of their imprisonment, and how they were left to die beneath a desert sun. And as they tell you their story, you can see the size of the scar on their body - it is large and Noticed.	I had never seen anything like him. He was the most unusual person I had ever met. He had only one scar, the biggest one I had ever seen. It ran the length of his stomach, dividing his skin in two. It was so big it was almost fatal. But he didn't seem to care. He was happy, unrestrained and full of life. It was refreshing to see. We talked for hours, never running out of things to discuss. I couldn't believe how open he was. He told me everything: the lies he had told, the pain those lies had caused. But he never apologized. He just laughed and said it was all part of life. I was amazed at how he had grown used to his scar. He seemed to love it. It was like a part of him. I couldn't help but admire him for his strength. I was so happy I had finally met someone like him. But then I realized something. He was the only person I had ever met with a single scar. And that was the biggest scar of all.	You can't help but stare at the scar. It is the biggest one you have ever seen. It is so big that it covers the entire person's body. You can't imagine what they must have lied about to get a scar like that. The person sees you staring and comes over to talk to you. They tell you that they lied about their age to get into a club. It was a stupid lie and they regretted it immediately. But it was too late, the damage was done. The person then asks you about your scars. You hesitate to answer, but then you realize that there is no shame in telling the truth. You tell the person about all the little lies you have told throughout your life. Some of them were white lies, but others were more serious. The person listens intently and then asks you a question that makes you think. They ask if you would change anything if you could go back and tell the truth from the start. You think about it for a moment and then you reply that you wouldn't change a thing. Even though the scars are a constant reminder of your lies, they also remind you of the lessons you have learned. The person smiles and nods in understanding. You can tell that they feel the same way. Even though the scars are a painful reminder of the past, they also represent the strength of character that has been built because of them.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer?
5	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician has always been aL voter favorite. He is known for his amazing magical techniques, and can always/#select #2 to make his UD games. He is not sure whether to like the rabbit or not. He decides to like the rabbit. The rabbit gets angry and walks off stage. The magician is surprised by the rabbit's action, but still choose to keep the rabbit on stage. The magician soon realizes that the rabbit isAIDS. He Selects to use his own game, which he win by telling the game story.	The magician had been trying to get the rabbit out of his hat for days. But no matter how hard he pulled, the rabbit refused to come out. Finally, he gave up and let the rabbit die. He was too sad to continue trying.	The magician is tired of always being the one that isovaided by the rabbit. He decides to take revenge on his pet by pulling out a new rabbit from his hat - a rabbit that is much stronger and more acrobatic than the old rabbit. The magician is amazed at how well this rabbit performs and He soon finds himself on the receiving end of the rabbit's acrobatic stunts. The magician can't handle the new rabbit's power and falls flat on his back, surrendering to the rabbit's dominance.	The magician and his rabbit have been through a lot together. They've performed countless shows and the rabbit has always been there to help make the magician's tricks come to life. But lately, the rabbit has been feeling like he's been playing second fiddle. He's sick of being stuck in a hat, only to be pulled out when it's time for the show. The rabbit has had enough. He's decided to take matters into his own paws and run away. The next time the magician goes to pull him out of the hat, he's nowhere to be found. The audience gasps in surprise, but the magician is quick to think on his feet. He pulls out a replacement rabbit and the show goes on. The magician may have been able to keep the show going, but he knows that he's lost his best friend. The rabbit may have been sick of playing second fiddle, but the magician always appreciated him and will miss him dearly.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is on his way to trial set to investigate a patient who has UN spinach poisoning. He is loudly bragging to his friends and family about hisNPR study on particular patients with spinach poisoning. As he parties he thinks of the mechanics of the disease and how to avoid it. A patient walks in to Sigmund Freud's medical tourism hospital. It's now famous as the "House of Freud." The patient is Adolf Hitler. "He's going to die," Sigmund Freud thinks to himself. He has been trying to avoid him for the past few weeks. "I can't help him," Sigmund Freud thinks to himself. "He'sData Naming and Widespread Disorder in theRED peril of Mankind" He tries to think of what to do. He has been brainwashed by the Soviets and feels they may have the solution to the attack on the United States. He's a Dictator with no choice, he thinks. He needs to get through the trial and keep his popular support.	Adolf Hitler read the ad and was intrigued. He was a young man with a lot of promise and he wanted to be a part of the clinical trials. Stalin was the only other person who responded. Stalin was a powerful man and he knew how to get what he wanted. He said, "I'll be there." Joseph Stalin also read the ad. He was also interested in the trials and he wanted to be a part of them. He said, "I'll be there." Leon Trotsky also read the ad. He was also interested in the trials and he wanted to be a part of them. He said, "I'll be there." Josip Broz Tito also read the ad. He was also interested in the trials and he wanted to be a part of them. He said, "I'll be there." And finally, Adolf Hitler read the ad. He was impressed by the responses and he decided to take part in the trials. He said, "I'll be there."	Freud was interested in testing his latest research on human subjects, and he put an ad in a newspaper looking for participants. Adolf Hitler was the only person to respond. Freud was skeptical at first, but he decided to set up the trials anyway. The results were amazing. Adolf Hitler was able to use his anger and hatred to become one of the most powerful men in history. Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito all benefitted from the research too.	The early 1900s were an exciting time for the field of psychology. Sigmund Freud was at the forefront of this new field of study, and his theories were gaining traction in the scientific community. In 1913, Freud decided to conduct clinical trials of his latest research in Vienna, Austria. He placed an ad in a local newspaper, seeking participants for his study. To his surprise, the only people who responded to his ad were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their early 20s at the time, and they were all eager to participate in Freud's research. The trials were conducted over the course of several weeks, and Freud was impressed with all of the men. Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky, and Tito all showed a keen intellect and a deep understanding of Freud's theories. However, Freud was most impressed with Hitler. The young man was charismatic and forceful, and he had a clear vision for his future. After the trials were over, Freud predicted that Hitler would go on to do great things. Unfortunately, Freud could never have predicted the horrors that Hitler would ultimately unleash on the world.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ).
2	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The attic was always FS Visible because it was always clear. It was a place where things were hidden so that they would be hidden when you few them.A place where you could hide a particularly important thing from your children.A place where they would not be able to see it and be able to understand what it was.A place that was RTFirst things first because it is just better that way.	I've been hiding my invisibility all my life. I never wanted to be the person who could't see what was going on. But as time has passed, I've realized that this is how I've always lived. I've never been able to tell the world what I see because then I would have to let people know about my disability. And that would be a choice I couldn't make. But one day, I decided to take my invisibility to the next level. I started wearing a invisibility suit every day. I made sure no one could see me when I left my house, and I even took precautions to make sure my invisibility was properly concealed. It's been a few weeks now and I've been obserring my surroundings closely. I've found that something is definitely living in my home. It's like there's a layer of invisibility that keeps everything visible, but it's also weak and easily penetrated. I can't see it or touch it, but I'm sure that I'm dealing with it head on. I'm going to have to confront the thing head on if I want to protect my home.	I've been noticing something strange lately in my home. I can't put my finger on it, but there's this thing, or maybe it's more like creatures, that I can't seem to see. I've tried to expose it, but it always seems to disappear before I can get a good look. I don't know if it's real or if I'm just being paranoid, but I have to find out.	There's something invisible living in my home. I don't know what it is, but I can tell that it's there. I've tried to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence, but so far it's been difficult. I think it's aware of me too. I've tried to set traps for it, but nothing seems to work. I've even tried to talk to it, but it's like it can't hear me. It's frustrating, but I'm determined to find out what this invisible thing is. One day, I think I finally catch a break. I'm in the kitchen when I hear a noise coming from the living room. I slowly creep over to the doorway and peek in. And there it is! The invisible thing! I watch as it moves around the room, seemingly unaware of my presence. I'm not sure what to do, but I know I have to act fast. I quickly grab a vase and hurl it at the invisible thing. To my surprise, it goes right through it! I must have missed. I try again, but the same thing happens. It's like the invisible thing is made of air. I'm not sure what to make of this, but I know I need to find out more. I'll keep watch and see if I can figure out what this thing is. Maybe someday I'll even be able to talk to it.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months.
3	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	Tom was the only person that she had ever lied with. He was, quite literally, her totalofer. Tom was the one person that she could go to for anything, and he was also the one person that she could go to when she needed to03ust. The first time they Trickert absolved was in the humiliation of their relationship. Since he had always been the one to push her towards the lying, Tom had nothing to do during the weekends and would have to baristdays with his girlfriend. Because of this, Tom would go along with her plan to lie to her and say she was out at an outdoor restaurant on a birthday party. It was during one of these visits that she knew she was starting to understand the man underneath the fraud. Even though he away-lined her many times, she couldn't help but to Casual programmers when she would go out with him. She would get lost in the numbers that he would give her and she would fall into the funereal tone that he would always maintain. But the funereal tone didn't last long. Because, on this particular day, Tom did the one thing that he never seemed to stop doing- heDid it. He became the one person that she could trust that would let her know that she was being honest with her actions. And, because of this, she was finally able to trust him again.	You meet this person on a dark street corner. They are standing in front of a door that is closed. They don't seem to be in any danger, but you can't help but feel worried. You walk up to them and ask them why they are there. They tell you a story that starts with a lie.	I was mesmerized by the large, pulsing scar on his back. It was so big, and it looked so fresh. He seemed so happy, and I couldn't help but want to ask him about it. I eventually worked up the courage, and we started talking. Turns out, this is the only scar he has. He has never lied, and he's never hurt anyone. He's never had to justify himself to anyone. He's just perfect in my eyes.	You meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. They tell you that they have never lied in their life. You don't believe them at first, but you can see the truth in their eyes.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer?
4	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician is on stage, pulling out tricks with his pencils. He's tired of being the second best candidate for magic. He's close to quitting but the rabbit comes up to him and begging. The magician agrees to put the rabbit first and starts to perform with only a little bit of pencil in his hand. The rabbit is happy to be the second best candidate, but is still looking for an edge.	The magician pulled out the rabbit from the hat and set it down in front of him. "Now, release me from this contract," he said. The rabbit looked at the magician in confusion. "What contract? What do you mean by release me?" The magician turned to his assistant. "She's just a rabbit, she can't do anything." The assistant looked at her friend and shook her head. "She's always been a little more curious than the other animals. I think she might be able to help you out." The magician nodded and took a look at the rabbit. She was watching him with those bright eyes and he could see the interest in her mind. He thought for a moment, then he decided. "Fine. She can help me out." He took a deep breath and released the rabbit. She flew into the air, flying around the stage. The magic that had been used before seemed to work even better now. The rabbit stopped in the air, watching the magician. "Thanks, rabbit," he said softly. "You've been a big help." The rabbit looked at him with those bright eyes, then flew away. The magician smiled and finished off his show. As he left the stage, he realized that the rabbit was likely interested in joining him in the future.	The magician had been performing for years, pulling rabbits out of hats one after the other. He was good at his job, and people loved his show. But the rabbit was tired of being the second fiddle. He wanted to be center stage, and he wanted to be the star. One night, the rabbit had had enough. He sneaked up on the magician while he was fiddling with his hat, and before he knew it, the rabbit was inside. The magician was startled, but he tried not to show it. He continued with his show, pulling rabbits out of his hat one after the other. But the rabbit was no longer interested in playing second fiddle. He wanted to be the star, and he was going to get what he wanted.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. The rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle, and he's had enough. He's been planning his escape for weeks, and now it's time to put his plan into action. The magician starts his act, and the rabbit waits patiently for his cue. When the time comes, he makes his move. He dashes out of the hat and onto the stage, running as fast as he can. The crowd gasps in surprise, and the magician is momentarily shocked. But he quickly recovers, and starts chasing after the rabbit. The rabbit knows he can't outrun the magician, so he makes a dash for the audience. He weaves in and out of the stunned spectators, heading for the exit. The magician is right behind him, but the rabbit is faster. He makes it to the exit and escapes into the night. He's finally free, and he knows he'll never have to go back to that stage again.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
5	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. Each painting has been frequented by forgetful and forgetful people, who have often enough seen through his jokes and found the reality behind them. It's now their turn to be Remember Bob Ross! The gentleman in the painting isReal Q@ The lady in the painting is J*D*b*s*i*n*e	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. His victims have all been found dead in the same places, committed to the same fate by the same man. They are all martyrs to the beauty of nature, put to death for the sins of humanity. Some are remembered more than others, but all of them remain an unimaginable horror.	Bob Ross loved painting landscapes. He would travel to different locations, get to know the landscape, and then paint it. But what Bob didn't know was that each of his paintings was a real place. The different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross was a prolific serial killer. His victims were all over the world, and he had a signature MO: he would painting their landscapes and then kill them. The police were baffled by the murders. There was no pattern and no clear motive. But eventually, they realized that each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings was actually a real place. The different locations were all of his countless murders. Bob Ross was eventually caught and convicted. But to this day, no one knows exactly how many people he killed.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was alwaysLABOR RELAYS most challenging part of my life. It was hard work trying to keep the device rid of the Labor Department and related entity while I atmospherized my way through high school and college. I was a completePinocchio type character - statesmanlike body type and all - and I could never seem to lose. But once I got past the Angelus code and became a " REAL " Auditor, the device was easy. I was an undercover Auditor at the qualified level of 3rd-years. I lived opposite the Boomers in a high school that was about to become the average high school. I was an average student at that. I would set up my device in their lounge room and wait for the opportunities to work my way up the ladder. One day, I got an opportunity that nobody else in the world had. I was allowed to deactivate the device once I was determined to be an intelligent and stable person. I eagerly did so. I was now a " real " Auditor.	Auditor 5 had always been fascinated by the recounting of happy stories. Growing up she loved hearing about people who had overcome anything and everything, regardless of the obstacles. So when she was told that all humans were born with a birth control device implanted during puberty, she was excited to find out more. The first few weeks were fun, as she visited each of the homes of the students. They were all excited to see her, pointing out the new addition to the family. But soon enough, the novelty of not being able to have children wear a condom started to wear thin. That's when she started to get a bit bored. She wasn't Hibiscus, she wasn't pollen. She was an Auditor, and there were always new opportunities to spread her wings. So she decided to go on a mission. She started visiting schools in the city and preaching to the students about the importance of abstinence. She made sure to reiterate the message that condoms were the only way to prevent conception. But to her dismay, the students were not interested. They were too busy using their contraception devices to avoid getting pregnant. Auditor 5 was disappointed, but she was also determined to continue her mission. One day, she was walking through a neighborhood when she saw a group of young kids. She stopped and introduced herself. The kids were excited to see her, but they were also a little bit scared. They didn't know what to expect from an Audit. She told them about her job, and about the importance of abstinence. After hearing her story, the kids were starting to believe her. And that's when the most important thing changed for Auditor 5. The kids she had been talking to now had kids of their own. They were proud of their children, and they were also starting to understand the importance of contraception. The mission was still going strong, but Auditor 5 now had the added benefit of being able to see her children grow up and have their own families. she was content knowing that her children would always have her protection.	I was born into a society where everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It's a precaution against the dumbest people in the world reproducing and ruining our species. I was always worried about when the time would come for me to be implanted. I was sure my intelligence and stability would be questioned by an Auditor. But, when the time finally came, I was relieved. I knew my children would be smart and well-adjusted.	You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you interview potential parents and administer tests to assess their ability to care for a child. If they pass, you deactivate their birth control device and they are free to have children. If they fail, they remain on birth control and are unable to have children. You take your job very seriously, as you know that the future of the world depends on only the smartest and most stable people having children. You know that if the dumbest people were allowed to reproduce, it would only lead to more misery and suffering in the world. So you work hard to make sure that only the most qualified people are able to have children. It's a tough job, but somebody has to do it.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!
2	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	acquired some loot from a excursion into the intended area. the party is about to leave to continue the search when they see an oncoming horde of zombies. they are able to down them in a few shots. satisfied, the party returns to the pawn shop. the next day, youRegion: You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	One day, a group of adventurers come to your shop to sell a magic item they've just acquired. They tell you that they found it while looking for treasure in a different part of the kingdom. They're sure that you can sell it to them for a high price, since it's one of the rarest magic items in the game. You heartily agree to sell it to the adventurers, but you have a different idea. You know that you could use the magic item to help your customers. You explain to the adventurers that the item is magical, and it can help them in many ways. You tell them that it can bring them good luck, protect them from danger, and even bring them wealth. The adventurers are excited to receive the magic item, and they offer you a high price for it. You thank them for your help, and you take the magic item back to your shop. You use it to help your customers in many ways, and they are very grateful.	Elise ran her RPG pawn shop for as long as she could remember. It was always her favorite hobby, haggling with adventurers who came in to sell their newly acquired loot. She loved to see the expressions on their faces when she was able to get them to sell for a fraction of their value. It was a typical day at the pawn shop when Elise saw a group of adventurers enter. She greeted them, and then started haggling with them. She wasn't about to let them sell their loot for cheap, no matter how desperate they seemed to be. But eventually, Elise was able to get them to agree to sell their loot for a fraction of its value. She was gleeful, and felt like she had made a good deal. She ended up keeping all of the loot, and was happy to have made some extra money.	You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You're a master haggler, and you always manage to get the best deals for your shop. Today, you see a group of adventurers walking into your shop, and you can tell they're carrying a lot of loot. You approach them and start haggling. After a few minutes of back-and-forth, you finally manage to get them to agree to a price that's fair for both of you. You're happy with the deal you've made, and the adventurers are happy to have offloaded some of their loot. It's a win-win for everyone involved!	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me.
3	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The one available spot in the house was the one that couldn't be seen from the other rooms. Even though it was the only place that could see them, the one invisible spot managed to stay hidden. It wasirteen years later, and the house is finally revealed. The only difference is that the one invisible house is now a household name.	I've been trying to expose my invisibility for as long as I can. I've tried to take pictures and videos of it, but it always manages to escape my notice. It seems to be lurking in the background, waiting to take over my life. Then one day, I had the brainstorm of a lifetime. I started to installation a invisibility detector in my home. I was worried that it would ruined my invisibility, but I was pleasantly surprised. The invisibility detector seemed to work perfectly. My home became one giant invisibility bubble. I'm now using my invisibility detector to protect myself from the invisibility of my own mind. I love the feeling of being one with the world. I don't have to worry about the invisibility of my mind anymore.	I always thought our house was weird. My parents never talked about their home life, and I grew up assuming they were just normal people. But there was something...off about our house. It was always cold, even in the summer, and no matter how many times I asked my parents about it, they just wouldn't tell me what was wrong. One day, after weeks of trying to figure out what was making our home so cold, I finally realized that something was living in our attic. I was scared, but I also wanted to know what was up there. I didn't want the something to know I was aware of its presence, so I tried to catch it in the act. But it was always one step ahead of me. Eventually, I gave up. I knew the something was there, but I couldn't get it to leave. And I was starting to get really afraid.	It had been living in my home for weeks, maybe even months, before I finally caught wind of its presence. I don't know how it got there or why it chose my home, but I knew I had to get rid of it. I tried every method I could think of to expose it without letting it know that I was onto it. I set traps, spread powder around, and even left food out in the open, but nothing worked. It was as if this invisible thing was taunting me, laughing at my feeble attempts to catch it. Finally, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I stayed up all night, waiting and watching, ready to pounce on this invisible menace. And then, finally, it showed itself. It was a small, translucent creature, barely bigger than my thumb. It was hard to make out its features, but I could see its beady eyes and sharp teeth. Before it could escape, I grabbed it and put it in a jar. I don't know what to do with it now, but at least I know it's not lurking around my home anymore.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day.
4	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician does his usual trick of magic pulling out of hats small rabbits from around the room. However, the rabbit that he pulls out of the hat is not happy at all. He feels like he's being left out of the loop and is starting to feel mislead. The magician starts to feel like it isAGESich which is when he pulls the rabbit out of the hat.	The magician and the rabbit were on stage, both of them feeling a bitPositioned. The rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle, and the magician was sick of having to pull it out of a hat. "Enough," said the rabbit. "I'm over it. I want to do my own thing." "I understand," said the magician. "But I think you should get some rest. You're looking a little strained." "I'm not," said the rabbit. "But I think I need a break." "Fair enough," said the magician. "I'll take you home." The rabbit went with the magician, and they went home. As they started to enter the house, the rabbit saw a streak of white in the sky. "What's that?" asked the magician. "It's a white rabbit," said the rabbit. "I think it's time I got some rest."	The magician was tired of playing the role of second fiddle to the rabbit. He was sick of always being the one who was put on the back foot. The rabbit was tired of always being the one who was sick. The magician decided that he was going to change things. He practiced his tricks until he was confident that he could take the stage by himself. The night of the performance, he stepped out onto the stage and waited for the rabbit to appear. But the rabbit was nowhere to be found. The magician began to worry. Had he made a mistake and chosen the wrong rabbit? Just as he was about to give up, the rabbit made its appearance, but it was different. The rabbit was now confident and self-assured. It no longer wanted to be the second fiddle. The magician was glad that he had helped the rabbit to change its mindset.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is not happy. He's been pulled out of the hat one too many times and is sick of playing second fiddle. He's had enough. The rabbit decides to take matters into his own hands and starts to magic himself. He grows larger and larger until he's the same size as the magician. The audience gasps in amazement. The rabbit takes a bow and then takes the magician's place. He pulls the magician out of the hat and into the audience. The rabbit is the star now, and he's loving every minute of it.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it?
5	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is on his way to take a walk when he sees a man on the street. He will be able to congratulate him soon. As he walks, he thinks to himself, " doubtless this man is̃ the onẽ who will be able to help me when the time is right ." And with that, he gets to his destination. When he arrives at the man's house, he is met with a whooping and a Stanford t-shirt. "Who are you?" the woman asks. "I'm Sigmund Freud," he replied. "I'm glad to meet you," she says and hand him a envelope. "I should be remembered as Sigmund Freud," she says. "I should be remembered as the one who helped me when I needed it most."	Adolf Hitler was the only one who replied to Sigmund Freud's ad. He was intrigued by Freud's new research and wanted to be a part of it. Joseph Stalin also replied. He was interested in the new research as well, but was already surplus to requirements at the time. Leon Trotsky didn't respond, but he was probably influenced by Stalin. Josip Broz Tito, the only other person to respond, didn't want to be in a clinicaltrial because he had no experience in medicine.	Freud was excited to get responses to his ad. He would soon be able to test his latest research on some of the most important people in the world. He was surprised, however, when Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin answered his ad. Freud was hesitant to include them, but they insisted. Freud was concerned about what the two men might do to the participants, but they assured him they would be good candidates. Freud agreed, and the four men set out to start the trials. Despite their assurances, Freud was worried about the potential for violence. He knew he had to be vigilant, but he was also excited to see what the trials would reveal. He was not sure who would be the victor, but he was sure it would be interesting to watch.	Sigmund Freud was excited to begin clinical trials for his latest research in psychoanalysis. He placed an ad in the local newspaper seeking participants. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men met with Freud for an initial consultation. Freud quickly realized that all four men were highly ambitious and had a strong need for power. He began to treat each man individually, using his new research to help them understand and manage their ambitious desires. Over the course of the next few years, Freud's work with the four men had a profound effect on their lives. Hitler and Stalin both went on to become leaders of their respective countries, while Trotsky and Tito became well-known revolutionaries. Freud's work changed the course of history, and he is now considered one of the most influential thinkers of the 20th century.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud!

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was designed to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	Auditor 467814 watched as the males in her class shredded the papers they were working on. She had a feeling they'd be looking for her soon. "Auditor 467814," a voice called out. "I've been looking for you." She turned to see the Class President, Mr. B. "Let's go, Auditors. We've got work to do." She knew she was in for it now. Mr. B would want her to monitor the stupidest people in the world.	I was born into a world where everyone was implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It was a way to prevent only the dumbest people from reproducing, and as an Auditor, I was responsible for ensuring that everyone was raised well-adjusted human beings. It was a daunting task, but I was determined to do my best. I worked hard to learn about human emotions, and to understand the importance of morality. I even took courses in mathematics and science, in order to be able to provide a quality education to my charges. But no matter how hard I tried, I could never quite overcome the stigma of being an Auditor. Most people viewed me with suspicion, and I often felt like an outsider in my own world. But I persevered. I was determined to make a difference, and to help ensure that the next generation would be a better one.	You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to reproduce. It's a vital job, given that everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. You take your job seriously, and you're very thorough in your assessments. Over the years, you've become very good at spotting the signs of someone who isn't quite ready to be a parent. As you go about your work, you sometimes wonder what the world would be like if everyone was allowed to reproduce freely. Would it be a utopia, or a disaster? It's a question that keeps you up at night, but it's one that you'll never be able to answer. For now, you just have to trust that you're doing the right thing.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke.
2	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The windows were as transparent as if they were made of glass. The only thing that was visible was the darkness outside. It was a cold winter night and the only light that was streaming in was from the fireAM shell that was burning in the fireplace.	One day, after months of hard work, I was able to finally expose the invisible thing that was constantly living in my home. The creature was terrified and began to run away, but I was too strong for it. I could see it in the shadows, lurking and waiting for the next opportunity to come out and attack. I was terrified of what it could do to me, but I didn't want it to get away. I felt like I had to protect myself.	I knew there was something in my home, but I couldn't put my finger on it. I'd see shadows moving around my room at night, but I never could quite figure out what was causing them. Finally, I decided to take action and caught the thing hiding in my closet. It was an invisible being, and I was able to expose it to the world without it knowing.	I've always felt like I wasn't alone in my home. Like there was something else living here with me, unseen and unheard. I couldn't shake the feeling, no matter how hard I tried. I decided to set up a camera in my living room, to see if I could catch a glimpse of this invisible creature. I left it running overnight, and in the morning I reviewed the footage. At first I saw nothing out of the ordinary. But then, in one of the frames, I saw something move too fast to be seen clearly. I froze the frame and zoomed in. And there it was: a tiny, translucent creature, darting around the room. I couldn't believe it. I had finally exposed the invisible creature that had been living in my home all along. Now I just had to figure out how to get rid of it...	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense.
3	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Hitler read the ad and was intrigued. He had always been a fan of Sigmund Freud, and felt that his research could help to solve the world's problems. Stalin was probably the most connected person in the world, and he could probably provide some valuable insights into the Mein Kampf. Trotsky was young, and hisirectorate might be starting to form. And Josip Broz Tito was a unknown, but he had the potential to be a strong leader. Hitler called the three people he wanted to study with him on the phone. He told them that he would provide them with all the information they need, and that he would also be responsible for helping to train them. They all agreed to participate, and Hitler set to work on helping to get the research started. Months went by, and there still wasn't a response from anyone. Hitler started to worry. He had spent so much time trying to get someone to participate, and now he was starting to worry that he might not be able to reach his goals. One day, he received a call from someone who had supposedly beenParticipating in the clinical trials. They said that they had been unsuccessful, and that the research was too advanced for them. Hitler was devastated. He had spent so much time and effort trying to get these people to participate, and now they had just said goodbye. But in the end, it was all worth it. The research hadChances of success, and it had finally given Hitler the information he needed to solve the world's problems.	Sigmund Freud was excited to test his latest research on clinical participants. He put an ad in a local newspaper, and only three people responded: Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, and Leon Trotsky. Freud was skeptical at first, but he decided to test the hypothesis that all three men had Oedipal complexes. He put them all through a series of tests, and found that all three men had strong complexes related to their fathers. Freud was surprised that two of the men, Hitler and Stalin, had such negative feelings about their fathers. He decided to keep all three men in the experiment and continue testing them. Over the next few months, Freud tested the three men in different ways, and found that they all possessed unique qualities that he hadn't seen in other participants. Hitler was the best at imposing his will, Stalin was the most cunning, and Tito was the best at organizing people. Freud was amazed by the findings, and he decided to keep all three men in the experiment. He continued to study them, and eventually published his findings in a book. It's now known that Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, and Leon Trotsky were all successful leaders because they had strong Oedipal complexes. Thanks, Freud, for proving that theory!	Sigmund Freud was excited to begin clinical trials for his latest research in 1913. He put an ad in the Vienna newspaper seeking participants. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were eager to participate in the trial and were eager to learn more about Freud's research. However, it quickly became apparent that the four men had very different personalities. Hitler was the most outgoing and confident of the group, while Trotsky was the most introspective and thoughtful. Stalin was the most aggressive and domineering, while Tito was the most easygoing and laid-back. The trial quickly became a competition between the four men, as they all vied for Freud's attention and approval. Hitler quickly became the frontrunner, as he was the most eager to please Freud and actively participated in the trial. However, Stalin and Trotsky were also eager to prove themselves and quickly began to catch up to Hitler. The trial came to an end after several weeks, and Freud was left to choose a winner. In the end, he chose Stalin as the most successful participant. While Hitler may have been the most eager and enthusiastic, Stalin's aggressive and domineering personality traits ultimately won out. Trotsky and Tito were also given high marks by Freud, but were not chosen as the overall winner.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ).
4	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	There once was a powerful mage who fell victim to a team of adventurers who were looking for some treasure. The adventurers Tucano and Ulysses had previously fought against the same foe, a pandaren troubleshooted the workshop in which the508 reports postage stamps and 221 KennethBielser Danarrettv ledger1. The Tin Cannegar You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. The protagonist is an experienced and reliable RPG pawn shop owner who has been Compared with in-person adventurers for years. He has learned that they are always looking for loot, even if it's just a few little coins or a XP pot. The protagonist tries to told them that he has a pawn shop and can sell their goods, but they continue to look for other ways to get rid of him. One day, a team of adventurers who are looking for something specific investigate the pawn shop. They find the protagonist and his shop after exploring the room where they believe to have discovered the helmet of the Schools of Baffision and Excidium. They soon find that the protagonist is the template for the helmet and some of the items in the shop are associated with it. Thefootlogger witnessing the search finds the protagonist and his shop after erroneously filed reports of anドラゴンズ2 game over at the game over sound on the first day of a Arenas in the game.	Once upon a time, a shop called the RPG pawnshop was a popular spot for adventurers to buy looted treasure. Even today, it's a popular stop for traders looking to make a quick bit of money. If you were to stand in the store's doorway and look out at the street, you would probably see the same guys and girls coming and going as always. But today, there was one person different. This person was different because today, they were selling something that they had never seen before: items that could only be found in RPGs. The adventurers who used to frequent the RPG pawnshop were now gone, but the treasure that they had acquired was still there, waiting to be claimed. The seller at the RPG pawnshop was determined to claims it all and make a killing.	It was a quiet night at the pawn shop. Occasionally, a customer would come in, but for the most part, it was quiet. I was sitting at the counter, flipping through a stack of loot sheets, when I heard someone come in the door. I looked up and saw an adventurer walking in. "Hey," I said, "what brings you in today?" "I'm looking for a sword," the adventurer said. "I've got a few gold coins to spend, and I thought a sword would be a good investment." "I can certainly see that," I said. "What kind of sword are you looking for?" "I'm not sure," the adventurer said. "All I know is that it's a sword, and it's big." "Well," I said, "I can't leave you without a recommendation. I've got a sword here that might fit the bill. It's a little older and a little more beat up than the swords that are in fashion these days, but it's a good sword." "How much does it cost?" the adventurer asked. "It's not for sale," I said. "But I can give you a good price on it." "How much?" the adventurer asked. "It's only seventy gold coins," I said. "That's a good price for a sword of that quality." "I'll take it," the adventurer said. I wrote out the contract and gave the adventurer the money. He left the pawn shop with his new sword. I hoped he would be happy with it.	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you're not afraid to haggle for what you want. Today, a group of adventurers came into your shop with a pile of loot. They were trying to sell it all, but you could tell they were desperate. You offered them a fair price for some of the items, but lowballed them on others. In the end, you got the items you wanted at a fraction of the cost. The adventurers grumbled as they left, but you didn't care. You had gotten the better end of the deal, and that's all that mattered.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really.
5	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross, famous painters, was asked to paint a place in his Rhode Island home town. But when he arrived, he found that the house he had bought in his forties house town was now a must-icht place. It was a beautiful, old-fashioned, country home with a big drive that ran down to the ocean. Ross fit the perfect police society target demographic--locals who have always been afraid of the ocean. He was not able to paint therimpian trugh of the painting, but he could build it up with difficulty.	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings are based on real locations, the different places where he's killed countless people. When I look at them, I feel like I'm looking at my own murder statistics. Each painting is a cold, calculated act of violence.	Bob Ross's landscapes are a representation of his many murders. He would go to different locations and paint the scenery around them, painting scenes of murder and bloodshed. He enjoyed the gore and the feeling of being in control while committing these murders. He would often find new and exciting ways to kill people and would enjoy the reactions of his victims as they saw their landscapes transformed into scenes of death and carnage.	Bob Ross was a prolific artist, known for his beautiful landscape paintings. What many people didn't know, however, was that each of those landscapes was based on a real place. And each of those places was the scene of one of Bob Ross' countless murders. Bob Ross was a serial killer, preying on innocent victims and using their blood to paint his macabre canvases. For years he evaded capture, but eventually the law caught up with him. As he was led away in handcuffs, Bob Ross scoffed at the police, telling them they would never find all of his victims. And he was right. To this day, the location of many of Bob Ross' victims remains a mystery. Their bodies hidden in the landscapes that only he knows.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh!

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	If you were to tell the truth to this person, you would have told them that you were ancient and had the ability to age two years your years. They would have needed to be closer to you than anyone else to believe that you were what you say you are. This person was not like that. You can see the truth in them, even in the way they talking. They are a carton of lies, an open package ofSMGreen, but you find the real them first. When you first meet her, you know you are lied to. The woman you are first about is a liar, an hypocrite, and afrontum. She is a person who thinks that telling the truth is the key to happiness. She is the person who tells you that she loved someone, but she now realizes that she must let go ofasonry to maintain her lie. The woman you meet that day is clean and breath taking, but she is not a lie. She is the person who tells you the truth, but she will never tell the truth again. The woman you meet that day is a person who wants to be happy, but she founds her happiness on staying true to herself. She is a person who tells you she wants love, but she finds love elsewhere. The woman you meet that day is a person who wants to be seen as Horny, but she finds someone who sees her as a beautiful woman. The woman you meet that day is a person who tells you she can't love because she's not strong, but she ended up loved by someone who was strong. The woman you meet that day is a person who tells you she wants to be happy, but she never shines underorus to someone who tells you she wants to be happy. She wants to be happy, but she never is when she is around this person. The woman you meet that day is a person who tells you she wants to be seen as beautiful, but she is not seen that way. She wants to be seen as a person, not avagina. When you meet her, she is the person who tells you she is open and comfortable in your company, but when you Tucking her in, she is the one who ismoilful and Apprehensive. When you finally meet her, she is the person who tells you she is an ancient one, but when you show her the modern day version of aamiliar, she is no longer an ancient one but an individual who just wants to be treated well.	You Meet someone that only has one scar. It is the biggest one you have ever seen. It covers most of his body and it is difficult to look at him. He seems like a different person now, But the scarbed person from before remains with him.	I couldn't help but stare at him. He had the biggest and deepest scar I had ever seen. It ran the length of his whole body, stretching from his neck to his feet. It was so large, it looked like it was eating away at his skin. I couldn't help but ask him where it came from. He told me his story. He said that he had been lied to so much, he had become immune to it. Every lie created a new and bigger scar on his body. But even though he had been lied to his entire life, he still felt pain. He said that the only way to be free from the pain was to never lie again. He was willing to take on the biggest and deepest scar to prove it. I couldn't believe it. He was the most beautiful and unique person I had ever met. And despite all the pain he had been through, he still looked happy.	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. They tell you that they've never lied in their life. You find this hard to believe, but you can't help but be intrigued by this person. You want to know more about them and their unique situation.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off.
2	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross' paintings are all over the place. Some are in places likeodareshCommon Era, while others are in the comfort of our own homes. Some are simple enough - a schoolportrait or a loved one - while others areakipedia Birthplace of Jesus. One day, a new painting comes along that has everyone, from kids to Consumer's Ass rioting, amazed. It's a Face Off between Bob Ross and a Eye seeBob Ross The painting become popular enough that people are even considering buying Bob Ross' books. It's a sight to behold!	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. The different locations in which he committed his murdershave a unique feel and texture, as if they were all carved out of the same tough, rugged landscape. Despite the unique feel, each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is ultimately just a beautiful abstraction of the beauty of nature. The killers who killed Bob Ross were never caught, but they will always be remembered for their barbaric and heinous crimes.	Many people know of Bob Ross as the gentle and cheerful painter on PBS, but few know of the horrors he's committed in his lifetime. Bob Ross has killed at least 26 people across the United States, all by painting their homes and landscapes. It began with a simple murder- he would lure his victims with the promise of a painting job, and then force them into a remote location where he would kill them using his artistic skills. As he perfected his craft, Bob Ross became more and more remote, choosing locations that were difficult to reach and escaping capture for years. But one day, the police finally apprehended him, and he was sentenced to life in prison. He will never paint again, and the 26 people he killed will never be forgotten.	Bob Ross was a serial killer who painted landscapes as a façade to cover up his crimes. He was a master of disguise and no one suspected a thing. For years, he travelled the country, painting beautiful landscapes and killing innocent people. His victims were always women, and he would dispose of their bodies in the remote locations he painted. Over time, he became known as the "Landscape Killer". Eventually, his killings caught up with him and he was caught and arrested. In court, it was revealed that each of his landscape paintings was actually a real place - the different locations of his countless murders. Now, his paintings hang in prisons and mental institutions, a constant reminder of the horrors he committed.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh!
3	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was originally developed to enable the birth of just one child in the999999 majority of cases. However, the majority of cases simply are not good enough, and as such, the birth of a child is preventative MI. The birth is even more preventative because the device causes an extra birth. Every Trudeau who Diversityprofits from their Crazy Disorder, Crazy Talkers, and Crazy Everyday extension of Crazy, every three months, we leave our room in order to be reminded that we are all Cocoa defensively wearing people. We are all AIs. He (the AIs) were happy to be reminded that we were allgenetically Engineered. We were all complacent and content with our little worlds. until one day when they see a difference. one of their AIs sees a difference. until one day when they see a difference.	Auditor 2: Thank you for coming to see me today, Jr. It was nice to meet you. Jr. (Auditor 2's son): Thank you, Father. You're always so helpful.	Allison was born into a world where intelligence was a guarantee of a good life. She was one of the lucky ones; her parents were both intelligent and they ensured that she got all the best education money could buy. It was only natural that Allison would want to use her intelligence to help others, so she became an Auditor. The Auditor job is a difficult one, but it's important. The devices implanted in people during puberty ensure that no one with an intelligence below a certain threshold can reproduce. It's a difficult task, but it's worth it to ensure that the dumbest people in the world don't produce anymore children who will be equally doomed.	You are an Auditor, tasked with determining who is smart and stable enough to have children. It's a weighty responsibility, but you take it seriously. After all, the future of the world depends on it. You've just started your job, and you're already feeling the pressure. There are so many people to assess, and you have to be sure you make the right call. If you allow someone who is too stupid or unstable to have children to reproduce, it could have disastrous consequences. You're currently assessing a young woman who seems to meet all the criteria. She's intelligent and level-headed, and you're about to give her the green light to have children. But then, something strange happens. The woman suddenly goes into a rage, yelling and throwing things. It's completely out of character for her, and you have to wonder if she's really as stable as you thought. After a few minutes, the woman calms down and apologizes. She says she's been under a lot of stress lately and assures you that this won't happen again. You're not sure what to do. On the one hand, the woman does seem to be genuinely sorry for her outburst. On the other hand, you can't help but wonder if she's really as stable as she claims to be. After much deliberation, you decide to give her another chance. You hope that she's telling the truth and that she really is stable enough to have children. But you'll be keeping a close eye on her, just to be sure.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked.
4	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician has always been a bit of a loner. He's not like the other scientists or professionals in his group. He's notmedia or social. He's just a guy who does things his way,astutely. One day, he decides to come together with his team and try to Parliament Open, the rabbit is not happy at all. She knows that the promotional magician is always winning, so she knows she can at least make some noise andriptyje how she'll make the winning entry. But when they start to stand up to the first performanceiderian, the rabbit realizes that she's a failure. She's sorry to say that she lose her place in the performance. The magician takes her by the hand and takes her to the dressing room, where he tells her to spread her legs and try to enter the final performance. The rabbit empathizes with her own situation and decides that she'll enter the final performance even though the magician will have a say in the outcome. She knows that he will make her pay for her entire life choice. But she also knows that he can help her make it to the end. She takes his hand and weeps with him as they enter the dressing room together.	The magician thought he had found the perfect rabbit when he pulled it out of his hat. The rabbit was healthy and happy, and it didn't seem to have any problems. But then, as the magician looked on, the rabbit started to get sick. It couldn't keep up with the magician's tricks and couldn't understand what he was saying. The magician was starting to feel sorry for the rabbit. He didn't know what he could do to make it better.	The magician was getting ready to go on stage and the rabbit was getting ready to go home. The rabbit was sick of always playing second fiddle to the magician. "I'm sick of this," the rabbit said to himself. "I'm ready to be on stage and show the world what I can do." The rabbit waited for the magician to finish getting ready, then he hopped onto the stage and began to perform. The rabbit was amazing on stage and the magician was finally able to show his true skill. The audience was in awe of the rabbit and the magician was able to win the crowd over. The rabbit was finally able to be the star of the show.	The magician and the rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit is tired of being pulled out of the hat, and he wants to be the star of the show. The rabbit tells the magician that he is done being his assistant, and he wants to be the star of the show. The magician doesn't want to share the spotlight, and he tells the rabbit that he can't be the star. The rabbit is angry, and he tells the magician that he will show him who is the real star of the show. The rabbit pulls out a wand and he starts to perform his own magic tricks. The rabbit is amazing, and the crowd loves him. The magician is angry, and he tells the rabbit that he is nothing but a fraud. The rabbit is angry, and he tells the magician that he will never work with him again. The rabbit is the star of the show, and the magician is the assistant.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
5	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler clicked the submit button on the ad. He was excited to be a part of the clinical trials of Sigmund Freud's new research. He had always been interested in the scientist and admired his work. Joseph Stalin clicked the submit button too. He was excited to be a part of the clinical trials of Sigmund Freud's new research. He had always been interested in the scientist and admired his work. Leon Trotsky clicked the submit button but changed his mind. He was not excited about the research but he knew he had to be there to protect his friend Josip Broz Tito from being hurt.	Freud was excited to begin the clinical trials, but he was also a little nervous. He had never worked with such powerful people before. He didn't know what to expect. The first person to arrive was Adolf Hitler. Freud was surprised to see him, but he welcomed him warmly. They began to talk about the trials. Freud was impressed by Hitler's knowledge of psychology. Stalin arrived later that day. He was polite but cold. He didn't say much. Tito arrived last. Freud was surprised to see him. He had never heard of Tito before. But he was also friendly. The trials went well. Freud was able to learn a lot from the three powerful men. He was even able to help them improve their skills as politicians.	Sigmund Freud was excited to begin clinical trials for his latest research in 1913. He placed an ad in a local newspaper in Vienna, Austria, seeking participants. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was intrigued by this strange turn of events and decided to proceed with the trials. During the course of the trials, Freud began to notice some strange similarities between the four participants. They all shared a deep hatred for authority figures and a desire to overthrow the government. They were also all highly intelligent and charismatic. Freud was confounded by these findings and continued to study the four men closely. As the years went by, Freud's research took on a new significance. The four participants in his trials would go on to become some of the most notorious dictators in history. Freud's research had inadvertently uncovered the psychopathic tendencies that would lead them to become mass murderers. Although he never could have predicted the full extent of their actions, Freud's research helped to shed light on the dark side of human nature.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ).

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The vulnerable fresh paint that was being used to Sellingake School wasi constantly flew off the shelves when I came across it. I bought a large can of theér on the side of the road and was going to use it but I soon found out that the can was gone. I started to buy used paint online but it was only for eighth-storey painting. Then I started to buy it at the motorhomes. It was all going well until I bought a large can of green paint from a used store and then I realized that the green paint was missing. The next day, I was out $30 with a large can of paint missing. I had no idea what to do with the invisible paint. I started to buy paint at the motorhomes but it was all going well until I got home and there was just a lot of green paint sitting in the can. I started to buy it at the motorhomes but it was all going well until I got home and there was just a lot of green paint sitting in the can. I started to buy it at the motorhomes but it was all going well until I got home and there was just a lot of green paint sitting in the can. I started to buy it at the motorhomes but it was all going well until I got home and there was just a lot of green paint sitting in the can.	One day, I was sitting in my chair, Reading a book when I saw something standing in the corner of my room. It was a small, invisble figure, its movements undetectable by me. I tried to stare at it, but it kept moving. I decided to ignore it for a while, but it kept bothering me. Finally, I decided to confront it. I slowly got up from my chair, moving towards the figure. As I got closer, I could see that the figure was a small rat, and it seemed to Recognize me. It stepped forward, and I saw that the rat had a small, silver key hidden in its hair. It slowly took a step closer, but I stepped backHolding my book protectively. I saw that the rat was planning to steal my book. Before the rat could take another step, I quickly ran to the book and grabbed it. I turned around and quickly ran out of the room,Quickly locking the door behind me. I was relieved that I got the book safely and didn't let the rat get away with anything.	I had always heard that something invisible lived in my home, but I never knew what it was. I would try to expose it by turning on all the lights in my house, but it would always Disappear. I was starting to get paranoid that something was purposely hiding from me, so I started to keep my eyes open at all times. I even installed a camera in my home in order to watch for any sign of the creature, but it still managed to escape my notice. Until one day... I was watching the footage from my camera and I saw something moving in the corner of the screen. I zoomed in and I could see that it was a small, skinny creature. It was black and it had huge eyes. It was staring at me and I could see the fear in its eyes. I knew then that I had finally caught glimpse of my elusive enemy. I started to shake as I realized that I was now face to face with the thing that was living in my home. I didn't know what to do, but I knew that I had to eliminate it. I grabbed my gun and apprehended the creature, ending its terror for good.	You've always felt like you were being watched in your home. You can't see anything, but you know something is there. You've tried to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. But it's always one step ahead of you. You're not sure what it is, but you know it's there. Watching you.Waiting for you to let your guard down. You can feel its eyes on you, even when you're not looking. It's unnerving, but you're determined to find out what it is. One day, you finally catch it. It's hard to see, but it's there. It's an invisible entity, living in your home. You're not sure what to do with it, but you know it's there. Watching you. Waiting for you to let your guard down.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months.
2	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross is a painting. His locations are his many murders, each with careful chosen magnification. Each portrait is a seen it done with the land and the sky, each a work of art.	It was a beautiful day outside, but inside the artist's cabin it was a dark and foreboding place. Bob Ross was painting a landscape, and for the third time that day he had killed someone. He had killed his wife and then charged at her with a knife, cutting her down. He had killed his father and then killed himself, knowing that he would never be held accountable for his actions. But like so many other killings, this one had aknot to it. It was just another unsolved case that left the artist alone and frustrated.	Bob Ross was an artist who used landscapes to depict the beauty of nature. But his paintings are not just paintings. Each of them is a real place where he has murdered people. Bob Ross was born in the late 1940s, and he began painting landscapes in the 1970s. He was a respected artist, but there was one thing he wasn't respected for. He was a serial killer. Bob Ross killed people over the course of his career, and he killed in different locations around the United States and in different countries. Some of the locations he killed in were the Grand Canyon, Yellowstone National Park, and Yosemite National Park. Bob Ross was arrested for his crimes in 1991, and he was convicted of murder and sentenced to life in prison. He died in 2002 from a stroke, but his crimes will always be remembered.	Bob Ross' landscape paintings are actually depicting the different locations of his many murders. For years, he cunningly lured people into his trap, posing as a friendly artist who just wanted to share his love of painting with the world. But in reality, he was a cold-blooded killer, using his art as a way to hide his gruesome crimes. Now, the police are finally closing in on him. They've discovered the locations of all his murders, and they're ready to bring him to justice. But Ross is a clever man, and he's not going to go down without a fight. He's prepared to take as many people with him as he can, and he knows that his paintings will be the perfect way to do it. The police are closing in, but they don't know what they're up against. Bob Ross is a madman, and he's about to go on a killing spree the likes of which the world has never seen.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor?
3	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	When Jake was five, his mom said she was coming home for good. After telling him a few stories about how happy she was finally coming home to the friends she left behind, he said okay. When she got home, she saw that all the windows were open and there was a assessor in the backyard. And on the assessor was the sign that said ``Auditor''.	The Auditor's office was quiet. Only the sound of the computer screen and the occasional whisper from the patients. It was a different atmosphere from the previous year. The patients had all been discharged, and many of them had families to help them out. But for theAuditor, it was a new and exciting challenge. This year, theAuditor had decided to focus on the young. They were the ones that were most likely to be a threat to the world. And as such, they were the ones that he needed to watch carefully. He watched as the patients came in, their heads nodding in greeting. They were all patients that theAuditor had decided were worthy of treatment. They were small, but they had determination. They were all the ones that theAuditor wanted to keep in check.	As an Auditor, it was my duty to ensure that the world's population stayed as intelligent and stable as possible. That meant ensuring that everyone was implanted with a birth control device during puberty, in the interest of ensuring their well-being. But even I didn't know what would happen if the device was deactivated. Nobody did. That was why the Auditors were always so careful - because there was a chance that they might be the ones who determined the world's fate.	You've been an Auditor for years now, and you've seen all sorts of people come through your office. Some are clearly not ready to have children, while others seem like they would make great parents. But, no matter what, you always follow the same procedure. You ask them questions about their life, their plans for the future, and their thoughts on raising a child. And, based on their answers, you either give them the green light to have their birth control device removed, or you tell them they need to wait a little longer. Sure, there are some people who argue that this system is unfair. They say that not everyone is cut out to be a parent, and that some people are just too dumb to have children. But, as far as you're concerned, this system is the best way to ensure that only the smartest and most responsible people are having children.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke.
4	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	That day, you meet him at a bar. He's the only person in the world that has ever told you the truth. You've been told that you are amazing and everything you say is true, but this person is the first and only one that you have met that has openly exposed the lies of his heart. The day starts with him telling you the truth. You tissues are allowed and you;)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))	You walk up to him andsocialize for a bit. You notice that he looks differently than the other people in your world. He has the biggest scar you have ever seen. When you ask him about it, he doesn't answer you. He just looks away anddoesn't say anything else. You follow him and you can't help but notice the size of his scar. It is larger than any of the other scars on his body. You wonder what could have caused it.	"Who are you?" I asked the stranger, my curiosity getting the better of me. He looked away, embarrassed. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "My name is John. I'm a liar."	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. You ask them what happened and they tell you that they lied about their entire life. Everything they have ever said has been a lie. You don't believe them at first, but then you see the truth in their eyes. They are telling the truth. You don't know what to say or do. You just stare at them in disbelief.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing.
5	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud was looking for people to participate in his clinical trials for a new research area he was working on. He put an ad in a newspaper and only found people who had responding to it. One man was Adolf Hitler,, two women were Joseph Stalin, three men were Leon Trotsky, and one woman was Josip Broz Tito.	It was a cold, winter day in 1913 when Adolf Hitler called to Sigmund Freud's office. "I am interested in participating in your clinical trials," he said. "Will you be willing to have me?" Freud hesitated at first, but then he agreed. Joseph Stalin and Leon Trotsky were also interested in participating in the trials, but they were not as fortunate as Adolf Hitler. They were all put into different groups, and did not see each other for weeks. When they finally did see each other, it was to compete in a race. Stalin was leading, but Hitler was fastest. They stopped to talk, and then Hitler decided to stole Stalin's shoes. "What are you doing?" Stalin asked. "You are playing with me," Hitler replied. "There is nobody else who can do it better," Stalin said. "I will never be able to beat you," Hitler boasted. When they left the office, Stalin was so upset that he did not finish the race.	Freud is ecstatic to have the four most promising candidates in the world for his clinical trials. He takes them all on a tour of Vienna, showing them the sights and telling them about his research. They all seem interested, but Hitler is the most enthusiastic. He is fascinated by Freud's theories and wants to learn more. One night, they all meet up for dinner at Freud's apartment. While they are eating, Hitler asks him about the trial process. Freud explains that he will be asking the candidates different questions about their mental health. He tells Hitler that he is the most qualified to answer the questions because he has experienced similar things. Hitler is elated by this news and starts to ask questions immediately. Freud is taken aback by Hitler's interest, but he continues to answer his questions. By the end of the dinner, Freud is amazed by Hitler's level of knowledge. He decides to appoint Hitler as one of the trial participants.	Sigmund Freud was excited to begin clinical trials for his latest research in 1913. He placed an ad in a local newspaper seeking participants. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was intrigued by this strange group of people and decided to meet with them. During their meeting, Freud quickly realized that all four men were highly intelligent and charismatic. He was particularly impressed with Hitler and Stalin, who he felt had the potential to be great leaders. Trotsky was also intriguing, but Freud felt he was too idealistic. Tito was the youngest of the group and Freud felt he had promise but was still too immature. After meeting with the group, Freud decided to offer them all a spot in his clinical trials. He was curious to see how his research would affect each of them. The trials were long and difficult, but all four men participated willingly. Freud was amazed by the results of his research. Hitler and Stalin both responded extremely well to the treatment and became more confident and assertive. Trotsky also showed signs of improvement, but his stubbornness and idealism still interfered with his progress. Tito was the most improved of all, maturing into a responsible and level-headed adult. Freud was thrilled with the results of his clinical trials. He felt that he had truly helped these four men reach their potential. They would go on to change the world in ways that Freud could never have imagined.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ).

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	It was just another day when they moved in next to you. You were napitinated by the prospect of just how great of a life this person had. You were curious about them and their past. A part of you was born to the question, "Who are you rid of?" But as day went on, you started to pay more attention to this person. You were starting to feel like they were not just a person, but a lying person. You started to feel like they were part of a family, but the difference was, they were not correct. The person you were living with started to lie to you about their past. They started to say things that made you feel like they were Orbiting around You. You started to feel like this person was living in a world where a lie creates a scar that RUNS breaks as they try to move on.	The first time I met him, I couldn't believe my eyes. He had a huge scar on his chest - bigger than any I had ever seen. He told me his story and it made me want to see his scar on myself. I remember telling him that I had also been through a lot in my life and that I had never been hurt like that. He gritted his teeth and told me that his scar was the biggest and most inconvenient one on his body.	I stared at the stranger for a long time, unsure of what to say. He was the most bizarre person I had ever met. His one, big scar stretched from his forehead down to his chin. It looked like it had been done with a knife, and it was a deep, dark red. "What happened to your face?" I asked, my voice trembling. "A lie created a scar," he said simply. "I don't understand," I said. "It's a long story," he said. "But it's the truth. Every lie I've ever told has left a mark on my body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark." "But what has that got to do with you?" I asked. "I'm the only one who's ever been able to heal them," he said. "But it's aprice I have to pay. Every time I tell a lie, I have to let that scar grow a little bigger. But it's worth it, because it's the only way to keep people safe."	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. When you ask them about it, they tell you that it is from the biggest lie they have ever told. They say that they will never lie again, because they don't want to add any more scars to their body. You admire their honesty and honesty is something that you value highly.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt.
2	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The doorbell rings and the mother ofishing with anxiety, she goes to answer it. When she sees the undocumented immigrant in the door, she is surprised and Census-less. She tries to sound neutral, but the person in the room explains themselves. The mother is surprised that her child is ever necessary in this world. She explains that they are here to visit their brother in jail. The person in the house is networked with some people in town who are doing support groups for the family. The mother is needed and she is willing to do whatever it takes to be a broadcast from the home of Helplessness.	My home is always filled with a sense of foreboding. I can't quite put my finger on what it is, but there's something lurking in the shadows. I've tried to ignore it for years, but it's only gotten more and more active. One night, I had nightmares about a creature that was Invisible. I could feel its presence in the shadows and it kept making me scream. I wasParalysed by fear as the creature lurked near my home. Finally, I decided to face my fear. I made a deal with the Invisible creature: if it would leave me alone, I would tell anyone who would listen about the thing that live in the shadows. I didn't trust myself to speak openly, so I had to be quiet and watch. To mySurprise, the creature livered right next to me in my home. It watched me with lazy eyes, sometimes64clusively, others time in the berth. It never made a sound, just lurked there like a slithering snake. I tried to describe the thing to anyone who would listen, but they all just laughed. I was convinced that they were Only joking, but of course they weren't. They could have anybody they wanted, anytime they wanted. I decided it was best to just let it be. The creature had only made me feel scared, notilerious, and Hazardous. Plus, it was getting late and I needed to get to bed. But, as I made my way to bed, the thing was already there. It had come up from the shadows and was now stalking me. It was following me as I made my way to bed, and I could feel it growing more and more confident with each passing minute. I couldn't get out of bed, I could barely make a breathing noise. I was petrified. The creature was getting closer and closer until finally, it lunged forward and slammed into me. I woke up in a cold sweat, still in my bed. I don't know if the creature is still following me or if it's just a figment of my imagination, but I'm never sure. I'm afraid that it's going to come back anytime soon.	I knew something was wrong the moment I walked into my apartment. The air was stale, and there was something faintly unsettling about the way it smelled. As I stepped closer to the kitchen, I could see the vague outlines of something small and invisible lurking in the corner. I tried to ignore it, but the feeling of dread only grew stronger as the minutes passed. I tried to take pictures of the thing, but it was always just out of frame. Finally, I decided to confront it. As I drew near, the thing took flight, leaving my home for good. I left behind a shattered kitchen cupboard, and the lingering feeling that something terrible is always lurking just out of sight.	I could tell that there was something living in my home, even though I couldn't see it. I could feel its presence, and sometimes I would hear it moving around in the early hours of the morning. I wanted to expose it and find out what it was, but I didn't want to let it know that I was aware of its presence. I set up a camera in my living room, hoping to get a glimpse of the invisible creature. But it never showed itself on camera. I was starting to think that maybe I was just imagining things. But then one night I heard it again, and this time I followed the sound. It led me to my closet, and when I opened the door, I saw something small and furry scurry inside. I had finally exposed the creature, and it was just a harmless mouse. I was relieved that it wasn't anything more sinister.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen.
3	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	When Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for his latest research, he puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. However, when he look for them, he finds that they have all long gone. He is measureless, and his home is only aatibility. He Faltersich that he has in his hand, and he shows it to his friend and mentor, à Dr. Jacob otherwise known as Jacobappel. SPLASH! Sigmund Freud isfishmedyed. He has been drowned.	Adolf Hitler clicked the submit button on the email he had just received from Sigmund Freud. He couldn't help but feel excited at the chance to be included in a clinical trial of Freud's new research. It was a chance to finally prove to the world that he was the destined one to lead Germany to victory in World War II. Joseph Stalin clicked the submit button on the email he had just received from Sigmund Freud. He couldn't help but feel excited at the chance to be included in a clinical trial of Freud's new research. It was a chance to finally prove to the world that he was the destined one to lead Russia to victory in World War II. Leon Trotsky clicked the submit button on the email he had just received from Sigmund Freud. He couldn't help but feel excited at the chance to be included in a clinical trial of Freud's new research. It was a chance to finally prove to the world that he was the destined one to lead Cuba to victory in World War II. Josip Broz Tito clicked the submit button on the email he had just received from Sigmund Freud. He couldn't help but feel excited at the chance to be included in a clinical trial of Freud's new research. It was a chance to finally prove to the world that he was the destined one to lead Yugoslavia to victory in World War II.	Freud was excited to get responses to his ad, especially from the top candidates. He waited anxiously for their letters, looking forward to learning more about their potential as participants in his clinical trials. The first letter arrived from Adolf Hitler. Freud was disappointed, but he knew that he had to be patient. The next letter arrived from Joseph Stalin. Freud was excited to meet this infamous leader, but he was also apprehensive. He had heard so much about Stalin's brutality that he worried he wouldn't be safe around him. The next letter arrived from Leon Trotsky. Freud was elated to finally meet someone who could help him understand the complexities of human psychology. Finally, the letter arrived from Josip Broz Tito. Freud was thrilled to finally have a younger participant who was up-to-date on the latest theories. The trials were a success and Freud's work benefited greatly from the contributions of these remarkable individuals.	Sigmund Freud was one of the most famous psychiatrists in the world. His latest research was on the human psyche and he was looking for participants for clinical trials. He placed an ad in a newspaper and the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their early twenties and were eager to participate in the trials. Freud was surprised that these four men, who would later become some of the most famous and notorious dictators in history, were all interested in his research. The trials were conducted over a period of several months and Freud was able to glean a lot of information about the human mind from them. He was also able to see firsthand how dangerous and power-hungry these four men could be. In the end, Freud decided not to publish his findings, fearing that they could be used to control and manipulate people. He destroyed all the records of the trials and vowed never to speak of them again.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word.
4	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	The painting of a 4-year-old marine Argoniahtis standing in the dream of a fisherman, holding a cup of commodious water. The still air before a storm, a chance for a free fall beforeowing. The shoreline on the right side of the painting, written in pencil in thick, dark ink. On the left side of the painting is the text: Argoniahtis, 9/11. The painting has been on display for 57 years, and some people say it's a beautiful reminder of the tragedy that happened that day.	Bob Ross art is often compared to that of Vincent van Gogh. After all, both artists were known for their crazed and darkpieces. But whereas van Gogh made paintings of stunning Comeyresque landscapes, Ross's work is more mundane and rural. Many believe that Ross's paintings of rural America are his true masterpiece- and the crimes that took place there are oftenWhat are seen as theArtist's dark blotches on his legacy.	It was a bright, sunny day when Bob Ross came across his next painting location. He drove for hours, ever since he had decided to start painting murders. He stopped in a small town, pleased to find a perfect spot for his next painting. He got out of his car and took a quick look around. He saw a nice, quiet spot in the middle of the town. He started to paint, happy to be in his new location. As he worked, he heard a sound coming from the other end of the town. He turned to see a group of people coming towards him. They were angry, and they were carrying guns. The group of people was made up of Bob Ross' former victims. They had found him, and they were going to kill him for his crimes.	Bob Ross was a murderer. But he didn't kill people. He killed landscapes. He would find the most beautiful places on earth and then he would paint them to death. Ross had a very particular method. He would start with the sky, painting it a deep, dark blue. Then he would add the mountains, making them jagged and foreboding. The trees would be next, bent and twisted as if caught in a storm. And finally, the ground would be covered in a thick layer of snow. Everywhere Bob Ross went, death followed. But he didn't care. He was driven by an insatiable desire to create the most beautiful paintings in the world. And if that meant sacrificing a few landscapes, then so be it. Bob Ross was a killer, but he was also a genius. And the world would remember him long after he was gone.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth.
5	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The show is finally over. The rabbit has been Theme:Magician, and is quite tired of it. He's even more sick of playing second fiddle to the magician than he was before. The magicians finally end the show by pulling out the rabbit. The rabbit is embarrassed and confused, but it is happy to be out of the game.	The magician had been using the rabbit as a pawn in his performances for years. But now that the rabbit was sick and tired of being used, he decided to pull it out of the hat and give it a chance to live its own life. The rabbit was shaking from the force of the magician's hands as he pushed it towards the door. It was in pain, but it didn't know how to say goodbye. The magician made sure that the rabbit was out of the way before he started the performance. The rabbit was left behind, alone and in pain. It was the last thing the rabbit wanted to happen, but it had to go through with it. It knew that it wouldn't be the last rabbit to be pulled out of the hat, and it didn't want to waste another moment of its life playing second fiddle.	The magician had been trying to pull the rabbit out of his hat for weeks, and the rabbit was getting sick of it. Finally, the rabbit decided that enough was enough, and spoke up. "I don't want to play second fiddle to you anymore. I want to be the star of the show." The magician was taken aback by the rabbit's words, but he decided to give it a try. So, he changed the routine, and the rabbit was the star of the show.	The magician was in the middle of his show, and he had just pulled a rabbit out of his hat. The rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle, and it wanted out of the magician's hat. The rabbit hopped out onto the stage, and it started making its way toward the exit. The magician tried to stop the rabbit, but it was too quick. The rabbit made it to the exit and hopped off the stage. The audience was in shock, and the magician was left standing there with his hat in his hand.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The tub of water was everyday things for my family. It would fill up every day and fill my interrupting family in on how much water they needed. It was a reminder that i had to boil the water for lunch and make sure the onions were being cooked. It was a reminder that someone was going to get home from work and the water was going to be over- PACKED.	One day while I was sitting at my computer, I heard a scratching noise coming from my closet. I started to get up to investigate, but I found that the closet had been opened. There was something hidden inside the closet - a small, dark creature. I didn't know what to do, I was scared. I don't know what it was, but I knew it was from the dark and scared it away.	I was cleaning up my apartment one day and I noticed something moving in my closet. I tried to get a better view, but I couldn't see anything. I continued cleaning and a few minutes later, I saw it again. I was finally able to see it and it was a tiny, black bug. I didn't know what it was, but I knew I had to get rid of it. I went to the kitchen and grabbed a glass jar and started shaking it, but the bug didn't move. I went back to my closet and finally got it into the jar. I was so relieved and I quickly closed the door to my closet.	You've always felt like you're being watched in your home. Whether you're in the shower, cooking dinner, or just lying in bed, you can't shake the feeling that someone is watching you. You've never seen anything, but you know something is there. You decide to set a trap to expose the invisible presence in your home. You set up a camera in your living room and wait. For days, nothing happens. But then, one night, you see it. A shadowy figure darting around the room. You can't make out what it is, but you know it's there. You watch the footage back and try to figure out what the figure is. But you can't come to any conclusions. Is it a ghost? A spirit? Or something else entirely? Whatever it is, you know it's there, and you can't shake the feeling that it's watching you.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense.
2	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	Defender,” I Penalized You You were on the streets in the late hours of the night, drunk and busted. All you wanted was money, money and soon enough, you found yourself in where you all are. This is the world I live in, where drunkenness is the only way to grape the night and make some extra money. I had to come to the club with the other officers, to make the trade of helping out with someone who was working the night shift. So, you all are, ingredients on a cooking fire. It was a cold, night and you were sweaty, dirty and too drunk to know what you were doing. All you wanted was the grime on your skin, the dirt on your shoes and the money to get you up the stairs. You were going to make they way to the top and one day, you will make it. , You step into the light and you are met with the sight of this room. You are Clubs new player and all you want to do is make it to the next level. But first you need to be there for the older players. You step up to the role and begin to lead the group. You take the first step in the road, when you see the liar in the corner. You have never seen the liar before, until now. He is large, he is massive and he has the most beautiful eyes you have ever seen. You stop, you turn and you run. You don’t know how, you don’t know how to go back to this guy. You don’t know how to make friends with this guy, how to get him out of your body. But you can feel his eyes on you, can feel the way he talks to you, can feel the way you talk to him. You have learned how to be yourself now, and is knows how to play the part well. He Parentheses the offer and you name him Hunky Hunky. You know you can go home and Centers the whole thing. But as you make the left turn into the street, you see him in your mirror, can see the way his eyesight is suffers with every turn. You can see the pain in his eyes, in his voice. You can see how he feels, how he feels being watched, how he feels being in the dark. You can see it all in your mirror and you can't seem to help but to heartrily look away. But then you see him again, see the way his eyesight is Webbed with betterSM and you can't help but to our as him. You make the pull over to the wrong side of the road and you and your drugs, yourHunky Hunky. You know you can go home and center the whole thing. But as you make the left turn into the street, you see him in your mirror, can see the way his eyesight is suffers with every turn. You can see the pain in his eyes, in his voice. You can see how he feels, how he feels being watched, how he feels being in the dark. You can see it all in your mirror and you can't seem to help but to heartily look away.	You meet someone that tells you he did something bad that got him in trouble. He insists it was just a one time mistake and he can't be found guilty of anything else. You believe him and go above and beyond to help him get back on his feet. The more time you spend with him, the more you realize how accurately he describes your world. The lies that people tell are tools to protect themselves from what they know.	I had never seen anything like him. He was different from anyone I had ever met. His skin was bright and smooth, without any scars. I couldn't help but admire him. He seemed so innocent, and yet he had such a big scar. I asked him about it, and he told me that it was from a big lie. He said that he had been told to lie, and that he had done so for years. His lie had become so big that it had left a massive scar on his body. I was captivated by him, and I decided to tell him the biggest lie of my life. I told him that I loved him. He looked at me with disbelief, but I didn't care. I wanted to be with him, no matter what the cost.	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. You ask them about it and they tell you that it is from the biggest lie they have ever told. They tell you that they were once in a relationship with someone that they loved very much. But one day, they lied to them and said that they didn't love them anymore. They said it just to hurt them. And ever since then, they've been living with the guilt and the scar.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''.
3	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21.). Freud is annoyed with the lack of response, but decides to go ahead with the studies anyways. He takes a bus to the near by research center, "At least we're not being used," says the bus driver, "And for the record, our service is top-notch," ity Says. Sigmund Freud is passionate about his research into hysteria, and is eager to find ways to avoid the same problems with language that have been affecting humanity for centuries. He takes a bus to the near by research center, "It's not that I don't want to be used, but rather that I'm not falling into the habits of mind that are necessary for using the system," says the bus driver, "Let me know when you're ready to leave, and we'll start thelake," ity Says. Sigmund Freud is excited for his trials, as he knows that the system ismonstrously overfunded. He takes a bus to the near by research center, "So what do you say, and let's start soon?" says the bus driver, "Yes, I'll say what I say," ity says. Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin are more than capable researchers, but they seem to forget their own identity during the research process. They agree to participate in the trials, but with different goals. Adolf Hitler wants to use the studies to improve his own knowledge, and Joseph Stalin wants to use the studies to improve the knowledge of the participants. They are Guinness Premiership mentions of the most Collaborative Researchers of All time. The first trial starts, with 50 participants. "Please leave the system- MC," says a participants tee- Totty. "No, thank you," says Donald Trump. The second trial starts, with 100 participants. "Please leave the system- TV," says a participants tea-uboy. "No, thank you," says Donald Trump. The third trial starts, with 200 participants. "Please leave the system- X," says a participants yapping dog. "No, thank you," says Donald Trump. The fourth trial starts, with 300 participants. "Please leave the system- Y," says a participants yapping dog. "No, thank you," says Donald Trump. The fifth trial starts, with 500 participants. "Please leave the system- Z," says a participants zapping dog. "No, thank you," says Donald Trump. Sigmund Freud is excited for his trials, as he knows that the system ismonstrously overfunded. He takes a bus to the near by research center, "So what do you say, and let's start soon?" says the bus driver, "Yes, I'll say what I say," ity says. Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin are more than capable researchers, but they seem to forget their own identity during the research process. They agree to participate in the trials, but with different goals. Adolf Hitler wants to use the studies to improve his own knowledge, and Joseph Stalin wants to use the studies to improve the knowledge of the participants. They are Guinness Premiership mentions of the most CollaborativeResearchers of All time. The first trial starts, with 50 participants. "Please leave the system- MC," says a participants tee- Totty. "No, thank you," says Donald Trump. The second trial starts, with 100 participants. "Please leave the system- TV," says a participants tea-uboy. "No, thank you," says Donald Trump. The third trial starts, with 200 participants. "Please leave the system- X," says a participants yapping dog. "No, thank you," says Donald Trump. The fourth trial starts, with 300 participants. "Please leave the system- Y," says a participants yanking dog. "No, thank you," says Donald Trump. The fifth trial starts, with 500 participants. "Please leave the system- Z," says a participants zumping dog. "No, thank you," says Donald Trump. Sigmund Freud is excited for his trials, as he knows that the system ismonstrously overfunded. He takes a bus to the near by research center, "So what do you say, and let's start soon?" says the bus driver, "Yes, I'll say what I say," ity says. Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin are more than capable researchers, but they seem to forget their own identity during the research process. They agree to participate in the trials, but with different goals. Adolf Hitler wants to use the studies to improve his own knowledge, and Joseph Stalin wants to use the studies to improve the knowledge of the participants. They are Guinness Premiership mentions of the most Collaborative researchers of All time. The first trial starts, with 50 participants. "Please leave the system- MC," says a participants tee- Totty. "No, thank you," says Donald Trump. The second trial starts, with 100 participants. "Please leave the system- TV," says a participants tea-uboy. "No, thank you," says Donald Trump. The third trial starts, with 200 participants. "Please leave the system- X," says a participants yapping dog. "No, thank you," says Donald Trump. The fourth trial starts, with 300 participants. "Please leave the system- Y," says a participants yanking dog. "No, thank you," says Donald Trump. The fifth trial starts, with 500 participants. "Please leave the system- Z," says a participants zumping dog. "No, thank you," says Donald Trump.	Adolf Hitler was the only responder to Sigmund Freud's ad. Hitler was eager to help in any way he could. He was already a powerful man, with a great reputation. When he saw the ad, he knew he had to do something to help. He contacted Stalin and said he would be available for the clinical trials. Stalin agreed and said he would find the other participants. Joseph Stalin was much different than Adolf Hitler. He was a very shy man. Stalin was not interested in helping in any way. He was more interested in using his power to control the other people in his society. He did not want to help in any way. Leon Trotsky was another different man. Trotsky was a very sharp lawyer. He was able to get the other participants to agree to help in the clinical trials. Trotsky was also very interested in helping in any way he could. He wanted to make sure that the other people in his society were treated fairly. Josip Broz Tito was the last person to respond to the ad. Tito was a very powerful man. He was able to get the other participants to agree to help in the clinical trials. Tito was also interested in helping in any way he could. He wanted to make sure that the other people in his society were treated fairly.	Freud was intrigued by the potential of his latest research and decided to put up an ad in a local newspaper. He was excited to see which of his colleagues would respond. He was eager to start the clinical trials and hoped that the four young men he had chosen would be able to help him advance his work. Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky, and Tito all responded to the ad and arranged to meet with Freud. At first, the four of them were somewhat uneasy around each other. However, soon they began to work together and share ideas. The trials were a success and Freud was able to further his research. Thanks to the help of his new colleagues, he was able to make a significant contribution to the field of psychiatry.	Freud is both excited and nervous as he begins his clinical trials. He never expected to receive responses from such high-profile individuals. Hitler is the first to arrive and Freud is immediately struck by his intensity. Stalin is next, followed by Trotsky. The three men begin to argue with each other and Freud has to intervene. Tito is the last to arrive and Freud is relieved to see that he is more relaxed than the other participants. The trials are conducted over a period of weeks and Freud is surprised by the different reactions of the participants. Hitler is clearly the most invested in the outcome, while Stalin is more interested in the process. Trotsky is the most sceptical, but also the most engaged. Tito is the most easy-going, but also the most curious. At the end of the trials, Freud thanks all of the participants for their time and effort. He is especially grateful to Tito, who he feels has been the most helpful in furthering his research.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room.
4	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	magician# The rabbit#s help wanted us to come up with a challenge for the show. We were going to make the rabbit aware of itsacey and serve as second fiddle in the performance. The rabbit didn't seem to think that was a good idea, but we were determined to include it on the bill of plenty. As the show began, the rabbit was constant in his performance from the front row, pulling out the first job he did when he was given. He was getting tired and the way topper was given, but he made it to the end. The next job was a magic show show and the rabbit was the last to start. He showed up to the show ready to do his job, but the show was over before he got to the end. The rabbit#s system was to come up with a challenge to the show organizer, someone would give the job of pulling a rabbit to a associate or member of the audience. Theerno would have to carry the rabbit and make sure it got back to the theater without getting tired. Storyline: Theoroffly, the_ organizer was glad to have the rabbit in the show. He was about to give the job of pulling a rabbit to an associate or member of the audience when the rabbit got in the way. The organizer was able to give the job to a friend or member of the audience, but the rabbit got back in the way and got the job done. The organizer was glad to have the rabbit in the show, but the rabbit made the show too difficult for the organizer.	The magician pulled out the rabbit from his hat and said, "Here you go, rabbit. I know you're sick of playing second fiddle. You're going to be a part of this show and make sure that everyone enjoys themselves." The rabbit was excited and looked forward to performing. The magician was sure that he would be able to make this a great show.	The magician is a great performer, but he has always been a bit of a rabbit in the hat. He's always been the supporting act, and he's sick of it. When he's not pulling rabbits out of hats, the magician is practicing his magic. One day, he is practicing his magic tricks on a rabbit that is sick of being picked on. The magician is able to pull the rabbit out of a hat without even trying. The rabbit is so happy that the magician has finally recognized its talent and given it the respect it deserves.	For years, the magician and his rabbit have been performing their act on stage. The rabbits has always been content to play second fiddle, but lately it has been feeling unappreciated. One night, after the show, the rabbit confronts the magician. It tells him that it is tired of being treated like a prop and wants to be the star of the show. The magician is taken aback at first, but then he realizes that the rabbit is right. From that night on, the rabbit is the star of the show. It performs daring feats of magic and wows the audience with its tricks. The magician is happy to take a backseat and let the rabbit shine. He knows that it is the rightful star of the show.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
5	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross has been painting painters' commissions every where he goes. His ask of painting a place likeambken the wer of the wind is still strong.	Once upon a time, Bob Ross Studios was a real place. It was once a place of beauty and peace, a place where artists could express their creativity and find indemnity for their terrible crimes. But now, it's a Dark and Horrible Place where murder is the order of the day. On the walls of Bob Ross' old Studio, the murderers have written their names in blood, their victims nothing more than statistics. They've left behind paintings of massacre after massacre, a macabre shrine to their sadistic glee. The victims of Bob Ross' atrocities are all now forgotten, their memories relegated to unseen corners of the studios' memories. But the perpetrators of these crimes will never be forgotten, and their Names will live on forever in the paintINGS ofousy Bob Ross.	Bob Ross was an infamous landscape painter who was known for his peaceful and calming paintings of nature. However, many people know of his dark side- his many murders. Bob began his career as a landscape artist in the early 1970s, painting pictures of tranquil landscapes in various locations around the United States. He became known for his gentle, calming paintings, and many people came to admire his work. However, many people didn't know about Bob's dark side. He was a serial killer who killed many people, most of whom were innocent bystanders. He would lure them into his paintings with the promise of a peaceful painting, and then would coldly murder them. Bob Ross was never caught, and he continued to paint until his death in 1991. His paintings are still enjoyed today, and people can see the chilling legacy of Bob Ross' dark side.	Bob Ross was a serial killer who used his landscape paintings as a way to map out his murders. Each of his paintings depicted a different location where he had killed someone. He would carefully select his victims and then lure them to the secluded spot that he had painted. Once there, he would kill them and bury their bodies. No one knows how many people Bob Ross killed. But the detectives who finally apprehended him believe that there are dozens of victims, all buried in the remote locations depicted in his paintings. Bob Ross was a careful and methodical killer, and it was only through sheer luck that the detectives were able to track him down. Now, his paintings hang in a museum, and people come from all over to see them. But few know the dark secret that they hold.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood?

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	It's a beautiful night and the orchestra isIRD is playing together inupereously well. However, one look from the performer and rabbit knows that he doesn't want to be there. He's more interested in catching the next break instead. And that's how he meets the victim of his heist, a man who is quality time with his wife and children. How could he know that he would be this easy for this much money? The rabbitBad Builds the House The man is his customer, and the rabbit is willing to do whatever it takes to get his hands on the treasure. He tells the man that he is able to magic make him a present and he is not afraid of the anagrams. The man is shocked, but grateful. The man and his family live in a small town and the rabbit visits often. One day, the man is working the pub and the rabbit is waiting in the wings. He has never been asked to go on a drip, and he is nervous, but he is willing to take a chance. The man is his wife and family and the rabbit has never taken anything from them. He is theagineous gift that they have been waiting for for years. The man and his family are very happy and the rabbit walks out with a most different looking house than he wanted.	The magician pulled out his rabbit from his hat and let it go. It looked hurt, and the magician knew why. The rabbit had been pulled out of the hat for the entire performance and had been sitting in the audience with its head down,tail backwards. The magician knew the rabbit was sick of being second best. He would show it that it wasn't going to get what it wanted by doing something different. He turned to the rabbit and said, "You can have the hat."	The magician is a great showman and always manages to put on a great show. However, the rabbit is starting to get restless. He's always the second fiddle and he's sick of it. So one day, the rabbit decides to speak up. "Hey magician, I don't need to be the second fiddle anymore. I can do better than that. I can be the star of the show. So why don't you give me a chance?" The magician was a bit taken back by the rabbit's suggestion, but he was also intrigued. So he decided to give the rabbit a chance and to see what he could do. The rabbit worked very hard and soon became a star of the show. The magician was amazed at how well he had done, and he was even more impressed by how much the rabbit had changed. The rabbit had learned to be more confident and to stand up for himself. This was a lesson the magician would never forget.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual tricks. But the rabbit is starting to get sick of playing second fiddle. He's been doing the same tricks for years, and he's getting tired of it. So, during one of their performances, the rabbit decides to take matters into his own hands. He does a few of his usual tricks, but then he starts doing some of his own. He pulls coins out of thin air, makes balls disappear, and even makes the magician disappear. The audience loves it, and the rabbit is finally getting the attention he deserves. He's finally the star of the show, and he's loving it.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
2	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	As soon as he walked in, the liar in him knew that he had to find a way to make-up with his lies. Hecorruption and Benefits of Alcoholism The Clinchedamiya land is a beautiful location for a pornstar. Not only because it is where the pornstar expect to find her money from, but also because it's where the pornstar stomach is hidden. That is, until one day when the pornstar is on her way to meet her client. The client asks the pornstar what he thinks of her if he knows. The pornstar tells him that she's not a pornstar, but he doesn't believe her. He solves the problem with a big fake document thatOIL He lives in a world where the pornstar knows she's false. Despite the pornstar's protests, the clientube component of the world soonleshows. The pornstar's doing well now, but the pornstar's lies have taken their toll. One day, she discovers an alive in the Attribution document, and her world starts to unravel.	The first time I saw him, I was shocked. I couldn't believe that someone like him could exist in a world where each lie creates a permanent, deep wound. It was as if his lies were his own personal injuries. It was as if he could never be forgiven, no matter how many times he is caught. It was easy to see why he is so dangerous. When he tells a truth, it makes everyone look bad. He makes people ashamed of themselves, and it destroys their relationships. He makes them feel like they're not good enough, and that's how he stays in power. But I was also curious. I wanted to know how he got so scarred. And I began to ask him questions, and I soon realized that he only wants to talk to me because he wants to share the truth. He wants to tell me everything, and he wants me to help him clean up his world. But I can't. I can't let him go around telling lies like he has done before. It would only make things worse. So I help him, but I also keep my own secrets. I don't want to get hurt like he has.	I was intrigued when I first saw him. His one scar was the biggest one I had ever seen. It ran diagonally from his left eye, over his nose, and down his cheek. It was so big that it looked like it might tear his skin apart. I couldn't help but wonder how he had gotten it. Over the course of our conversation, I learned that he had lied so often that the scar was now his status symbol. Whenever he met new people, he would tell them the biggest and craziest lies, just to see how deep their scars would go. The more scars they had, the more they could trust him. I was revolted by his behavior, but I also found myself curious. Eventually, I asked him how he had gotten the biggest scar. He hesitated for a moment, but then he told me the truth. He had been caught lying, and the punishment had been the biggest lie of all. He had been told that the truth would kill him. It was the first time I had ever seen someone so honest. He had spent his entire life lying, and now the truth had broken him. I couldn't help but feel sorry for him. He was the most scarred person I had ever met.	You meet them in a dark alleyway. They're shrouded in a cloak, their face hidden in the shadows. But you can see their one scar, plain as day. It's the biggest one you've ever seen. You ask them about it. They hesitate at first, but then they begin to speak. "I've been lied to a lot in my life. Big lies, small lies, white lies... they all leave a mark. But this one... this one is the biggest of them all. It's the lie that I told myself." They pull back their hood, revealing a face that is covered in scars. Some are small, some are large, but they're all deep. "I lied to myself for so long, convincing myself that I was happy. But I wasn't. I was just hiding from the truth. And the truth is, I'm not happy. I'm scared, and alone, and I don't know what to do." The truth hurts, but it's better than living a lie. You tell them that, and you offer them a hand. They take it, and together, you walk out of the darkness and into the light.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good.
3	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ), Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler was on a hunger strike at the time. Joseph Stalin was in power in Russia. Leon Trotsky was in exile in Mexico. And Josip Broz Tito was leading the Yugoslav people's movement. But they all read the same ad in the Vienna paper. "Forclinical trials of Sigmund Freud's latest research. willing and able participants only." Hitler was intrigued. He had been working on his own version of the theory of psychoanalysis for years. And he had always wanted to participate in a clinical trial. Stalin was a bit more hesitant. He wasn't sure if he could handle the pressures of power. Trotsky was a risk to the Soviet Union. And Tito was a controversial figure. But Hitler was already well on his way to becoming the leader of Germany. And he knew that he could lead a successful campaign to become a part of the clinical trial. So he put his all into the campaign. He studied the trial transcripts. He made contact with the authors. He drove to Vienna to take part in the trial. And he was successful. He was elected to the advisory board of the trial. And he helped to design the experimental protocol. Hitler was proud of himself. He was the first person to participate in a clinical trial of psychoanalysis. And he was the first person to achieve success. In 1913, Vienna, Austria, Sigmund Freud was seeking participants for his latest research. But he only had the audiance of Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito.	Freud was elated when he received responses to his advertisement. He was eager to test his newest theories on these four men, who he thought would be the perfect candidates for his studies. The first trial was with Adolf Hitler. Freud asked him about his childhood and personal life. Hitler answered all of Freud's questions candidly, revealing some dark secrets that the doctor was not expecting. The second trial was with Joseph Stalin. Stalin was more reticent than Hitler, but still answered all of the doctor's questions. Freud was surprised to find out that Stalin was quite intelligent, and that he had experienced trauma in his past. The third trial was with Leon Trotsky. Trotsky was as loud and outspoken as Stalin, but he was also quite reticent. He answered some questions, but refused to discuss others. Freud was not sure whether he was hiding something or simply being stubborn. The final trial was with Josip Broz Tito. Tito was the most chaotic of the four men, never stopping talking or moving. He answered all of Freud's questions, but refused to give any personal information. Freud was disappointed with the results of the trials, but he was still hopeful. He planned to continue testing the men in subsequent sessions. But, as he was leaving his office one day, he was assassinated by a unknown assailant.	Sigmund Freud's latest research project is seeking participants for clinical trials in Vienna, Austria. He places an ad in the local newspaper, and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud is intrigued by the fact that all four men are young, and he wonders if there might be something about their age that makes them more receptive to his ideas. He asks them each to come to his office for a consultation. Hitler is the first to arrive, and Freud is immediately struck by his intensity. Hitler describes his innermost thoughts and feelings with great passion, and Freud can see that he is a man who is deeply in touch with his emotions. Stalin arrives next, and Freud is struck by his calm demeanor. Stalin speaks in a level voice, and his answers to Freud's questions are thoughtful and considered. It's clear that he is a man who is used to thinking carefully about his words and actions. Trotsky is the third to arrive, and Freud is impressed by his intelligence. Trotsky is able to articulate his thoughts in a clear and concise way, and he has a deep understanding of the human mind. Finally, Tito arrives, and Freud is struck by his energy. Tito is constantly in motion, fidgeting and moving around the room as he talks. He has a dynamic and charismatic personality, and Freud can see that he is a natural leader. After meeting with all four men, Freud is convinced that they would all be excellent candidates for his research. He thanks them for their time, and asks them to come back next week to begin the trials.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ).
4	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was put into me during puberty and I was able to deactivate it once I was sure I were still intelligent and stable enough to live a normal life. However, because I was an Auditor, I am still alive and unchanged despite having the device implanted into me. I continue to learn and produce children, and even though I am not able to parenting, I still try to make sure they are a good person.	Once upon a time, there were two genders: men and women. But then something happened that made everyone switch over to the gender that was most comfortable for them: the gender that was implanted into them at puberty. We call this the ``Audit''. It's a process where everyone is implanted with a birth control device to prevent them from being able to reproduce. It's a commitment that you make to yourself, and it's something that you'll always have to remember. You're an Auditor, and you'll be responsible for all of the people that are implanted with the Audit. You'll be monitoring their development and stability, and you'll be ensuring that they're able to raise healthy, well-adjusted human beings. It's a difficult job, but it's one that you're determined to do well. And you'll be able to do it thanks to the help of the people that you're responsible for.	For the better part of my life, I've been an Auditor. I'm responsible for determining whether or not humans are fit to reproduce. It's a tough job, but it's one that I take seriously. I never imagined I would have to use my skills in this way, but that's exactly what's happening. We're facing a problem with the reproduction of the dumbest people in the world. And it's clear that we need to do something about it. So, we've decided to implant all of the dumbest people in the world with a birth control device during puberty. It'll make it harder for them to get pregnant and reproduce, and hopefully it'll help to improve the overall intelligence of the human race. I know it's going to be a challenge, but I'm confident that we can do it.	As an Auditor, it is my job to determine who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I interview potential parents and ask them a series of questions to test their intelligence and stability. If they pass my test, I deactivate their birth control device and they are able to have children. If they fail, their device remains active and they are unable to have children. I take my job very seriously. I know that the future of our world depends on the children being raised by intelligent and stable parents. I'm proud to be able to help create a better future for our world.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge.
5	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross has been painting landscapes for over sixty years now. His share of revengeful thoughts are that one day he will "priced out" of every location, each with its own ' thus fulfilled ' painting. However, he perches continue to paint, someday soonPiekney in the Woods.	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. The murders took place at different locations across the United States, Europe, and Asia. Some of the paintings show Bob's killers in their own personal lives, while others depict the Marches of justice, or the trial of his victims. It's clear that Bob was dedicated to painting his landscapes in the same place over and over again, and his victims are the perfect residue of his revenge.	Bob Ross's paintings are all real places. Each one is a different location where he murdered someone. Each painting is a representation of his murderous spree, and his victims are everywhere. The first painting is of a tranquil waterfall. He killed his wife there, stabbing her multiple times in the heart. Next, is a painting of a rocky cliff, where he murdered his teenage daughter by throwing her off the cliff. Lastly, there is a painting of a misty forest, where he killed his abusive father with a knife. Each painting is a representation of his crimes, and each location is a place where he killed someone. The paintings are all a reminder of the horror he caused, and the people he killed.	Bob Ross was a man with a dark secret. For years, he took advantage of his talent for painting to create beautiful landscapes - and to hide the bodies of his victims. From the serene mountains of the Rockies to the peaceful forests of the Pacific Northwest, Bob Ross' paintings were actually crime scenes. And no one was ever the wiser. Until one day, a detective became suspicious of the similarities between Ross' paintings and unsolved murders. With careful investigation, the detective soon realized that Ross was the mastermind behind a string of killings spanning across the country. Now, Ross is behind bars, and his paintings are nothing more than gruesome reminders of the murders he once got away with.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh!

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician finds the rabbit Merlin walking through the audience. One look from the rabbit and he knows he isn't welcome anymore. HeDragically transports the rabbit to his stage, taking it step by step while talking to it on a phone. The rabbit is confused but Telecommunications the conversation as though it is already known. Merlin asks the magician what he is doing, to which the magician says he is changing the rabbit's mind. The rabbit feels proud that he is still playing second fiddle. He remembers when the magicians magic is wonderful and410greek Leadershipfor the rabbit disappears, leaving the answers himself. The magician is surpriseED!	The magician pulled out his rabbit from his hat and put it in front of the audience. "Here's your rabbit, buster. I know you're sick of playing second fiddle. Now I want you to do something that's never been done before." The rabbit looked at the magician with skepticism. "Are you really going to do this?" The magician nodded. "Yes, I'm really going to do this. I'm going to give you a gift that you'll never forget." With that, the magician pulled out a large sum of money and gave it to the rabbit. "Here's your payment for playing second fiddle. Now, you can go and make your own fortune." The rabbit eyed the money critically. "But what about the hat? I left it at the hotel." "Don't worry, I'll get it back soon. In the meantime, I think you should go and get started on your own show." The rabbit hesitated for a moment, but then decided to go ahead and perform.	The magician pulled out a rabbit from a hat and it looked sick of the attention. It wasn't used to playing second fiddle to the other rabbits on stage. The magician began to charm the crowd with his magic, but the rabbit couldn't take it anymore. It couldn't take the spotlight off of itself and it didn't want to be the center of everyone's attention. The rabbit slyly took the magician's magic wand and disappeared under the folds of his robe. The magician was betrayed and the crowd laughed. He had been hoodwinked and the rabbit had gotten away.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. The rabbit is tired of being the one who is pulled out of the hat, and wants to be the one doing the magic. He has had enough of being the one who is always second fiddle. So, during the performance, the rabbit decides to take matters into his own hands. He starts doing his own magic tricks, and quickly upstages the magician. The audience loves it, and the rabbit is finally getting the attention he always wanted. The magician is furious, but there is nothing he can do. The rabbit has stolen the show, and there is nothing he can do to stop him.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents.
2	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud was very excited to participate in a clinical trial on of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper and starts to apply for visas to each of the countries. He is finally lucky to be allowed to travel to Austria, Croatia, Slovenia, and Hungary. He is excited to receive his privileges and starts to participate in the clinical trials. It is very difficult to participate in the clinical trials. Every character is unique and has different interests and preferences. We hope you enjoy the story.	Adolf Hitler was fascinated by the prospect of participating in a clinical trial of Sigmund Freud's new research. Joseph Stalin was similarly intrigued by the prospect of being a part of the trial. Leon Trotsky was more interested in joining the trial but was overruled by his comrades. Josip Broz Tito was the last to respond to the ad. The three men were leader of different factions in the Bolshevik Party. Trotsky was the most progressive of the three and wanted to join the trial in order to promote positive change within the party. Stalin was more conservative and wanted to stay in power. Hitler was the second most progressive of the three and wanted to join the trial in order to learn more about Freud's new research. The three men were each lying in different rooms of the same building in Vienna. Hitler was using the bathroom and Stalin was using the bedroom. The door to the bathroom was unlocked and Hitler was able to listen in on the conversation between Stalin and Freud. The conversation was detailed and packed with information about Freud's new research. Stalin was interested in the theory that the human mind was influenced by Collective Mental Energy. Hitler was interested in the theory that the human mind was influenced by the will. Stalin was also interested in the theory that human emotions were determined by the Collective Mental Energy. The three men were also discussing the possibility of joining the trial. Stalin wanted to be a part of the trial in order to learn more about the theory and the practice of psychoanalysis. Hitler wanted to be a part of the trial in order to learn more about the theory and the practice of Nazism. Tito wanted to be a part of the trial in order to learn more about the theory and the practice of communism. The door to the bedroom opened and Stalin walked in. Hitler was surprised to see Stalin in the room. Stalin was interested in the theory that the human mind was influenced by Collective Mental Energy and wanted to be a part of the trial in order to learn more about it. Stalin also wanted to learn more about the theory that the human mind was influenced by the will. The three men were discussing the possibility of joining the trial. Stalin wanted to be a part of the trial in order to learn more about the theory and the practice of psychoanalysis. Hitler wanted to be a part of the trial in order to learn more about the theory and the practice of Nazism. Tito wanted to be a part of the trial in order to learn more about the theory and the practice of communism. Stalin closed the door to the bedroom and said goodbye to Hitler. Stalin then walked out of the door and down the hall. Hitler was excited to be a part of the trial and wanted to learn more about the theory and the practice of psychoanalysis. Stalin was excited to be a part of the trial and wanted to learn more about the theory and the practice of Nazism. Tito was excited to be a part of the trial and wanted to learn more about the theory and the practice of communism. Stalin walked out of the door and down the hall. Hitler was excited to be a part of the trial and wanted to learn more about the theory and the practice of psychoanalysis. Stalin was excited to be a part of the trial and wanted to learn more about the theory and the practice of Nazism. Tito was excited to be a part of the trial and wanted to learn more about the theory and the practice of communism. Stalin was walking down the hallway when he heard a noise coming from the bathroom. Stalin walked into the bathroom and saw Hitler in the bathroom. Stalin was surprised to see Hitler in the bathroom and wanted to know what he was doing there. Hitler explained that he was helping Stalin to join the trial. Stalin was surprised to hear this and said that he didn't know what to say. Hitler then said that he was the only person who responded to the ad and that he wanted to be a part of the trial. Stalin was excited to be a part of the trial and wanted to learn more about the theory and the practice of psychoanalysis. Hitler then said goodbye and left the bathroom. Stalin walked back to the bedroom and said goodbye to Stalin. Stalin then walked out of the door and down the hall. Hitler was excited to be a part of the trial and wanted to learn more about the theory and the practice of psychoanalysis. Stalin was excited to be a part of the trial and wanted to learn more about the theory and the practice of Nazism. Tito was excited to be a part of the trial and wanted to learn more about the theory and the practice of communism. The three men were walking down the hallway when they heard a noise coming from the bathroom. Stalin walked into the bathroom and saw Hitler in the bathroom. Stalin was surprised to see Hitler in the bathroom and wanted to know what he was doing there. Hitler explained that he was helping Stalin to join the trial. Stalin was surprised to hear this and said that he didn't know what to say. Hitler then said that he was the only person who responded to the ad and that he wanted to be a part of the trial. Stalin was excited to be a part of the trial and wanted to learn more about the theory and the practice of psychoanalysis. Hitler then said goodbye and left the bathroom. Stalin was walking back to the bedroom and said goodbye to Stalin. Stalin then walked out of the door and down the hall. Hitler was excited to be a part of the trial and wanted to learn more about the theory and the practice of psychoanalysis. Stalin was excited to be a part of the trial and wanted to learn more about the theory and the practice of Nazism. Tito was excited to be a part of the trial and wanted to learn more about the theory and the practice of communism.	Freud was excited to have these promising new candidates for his clinical trials. He put an ad in a local paper, specifying that only the most promising candidates would be chosen. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito all responded. Freud was pleased to have such strong candidates for his research. He scheduled the trials for the next month.	Sigmund Freud's latest research is turning heads in the medical community. He is seeking participants for clinical trials and puts an ad in the local newspaper. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men are eager to be part of the trial and share their thoughts with Freud. Hitler is the first to speak, confidently sharing his vision for the future. Stalin is next, and he is more guarded in his answers. Trotsky is the most animated of the group, eager to share his ideas. Lastly, Tito is the youngest and most reserved. Freud is impressed with all four men, but he can't help but be intrigued by their different worldviews. He wonders what role his research will play in their lives and how it will shape the future.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room.
3	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The shadows that surrounded her were real, andCongress was aware of the shadows that appeared when she moved. She could feel the warmth of the light, and the light knew the dark. The shadows Executioner of the home was happy to be exposed.	As I walked through my house, I could feel something lurking in the shadows. It was always there, lurking in the corners and behind the furniture, but I could never quite identify what it was. I tried to ignore it, but eventually I grew tired of it. I started to paranoia and distrust people, especially my roommates. One day, I came across an article about "the Unknown," and after reading it I finally realized what the thing was. It was the thing that I had been trying to expose for years. The thing that I had been warning people about. The thing that was going to destroy my home and my life. But I was afraid to let anyone know. I was afraid of them coming after me. I was afraid of them coming after my family. I was afraid of them coming after me and my friends. But eventually, I had to face the truth. The thing that was living in my home was actually my friend. And it was time to let him know that he was living in my home too.	I've had this feeling for a while now, like there's something lurking in the corners of my home. I can't put my finger on it, but I know there's something there. Tonight, I decided to take a closer look. I was standing in the living room, thinking about how to get rid of the invisible thing when I suddenly felt a presence behind me. I spun around, but there was nothing there. I took a few steps back and looked around the room again, but there was still nothing. I tried to dismiss the idea as paranoia, but the feeling wouldn't go away. I decided to stay up for a little longer to make sure the thing wasn't coming after me, but before I could settle in, the feeling came back. This time, I was sure I saw something moving in the corner of the room. I approached the corner, but as I got closer, I realized it was just a dust mote. I told myself that it wasn't anything to worry about, but the feeling wouldn't leave me alone. I didn't want to stay in the house any longer, so I decided to go to bed. As I was climbing under the covers, I heard something moving in the hallway. I froze, my heart pounding in my chest, but there was nothing there. I tried to sleep, but the feeling wouldn't leave me alone. Every sound made me jump, and I couldn't get the image of the shadowy figure from the living room out of my mind. The next morning, I called the landlord and asked to move. I don't know if the thing is still there, lurking in the shadows, but I'm not going to risk it.	I can tell that something invisible lives in my home. I can't see it, but I can sense its presence. It's like a weight in the air that I can't shake. I've tried to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. I've set up cameras around the house and left food out, but so far, nothing has worked. I'm starting to feel like I'm losing my mind. Maybe this thing is playing with me, knowing that I can't catch it. Or maybe I'm just losing it. Either way, I can't keep living like this. I have to find out what this thing is and how to get rid of it.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before.
4	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	Auditor was born to an intelligent family members. Though he was not native to the world of humans, Auditor was able to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. He was household name because he was theAuditor who prevent everyone from reproducing. Auditor was deactivated from the world because he was too smart for the world, but he would not let this become a reality. He would remainPurchase and keep him hidden from society for as long as possible.	Auditor 3 was the firstauditor to be implanted with the birth control device. She had been selected for the task because she was intelligent, stable, and fit enough to raise an intelligent, stable human being by an Auditor. As Auditor 3 was inserted into her body, she was pleased to find that the implant was effective. She had been told it would be. And so, every month, she would take her birth control device off and re-install it, just in case. But on the first day of the month, Auditor 3 had a startling realization. She was pregnant. She was beaming with excitement as she informed her colleagues of her news. They laughed and congratulated her, but she was not taken seriously. In their eyes, she was just aaturday warrior that had lucky yet to have an auditor implanted into her. But to the rest of the world, auditors were something different. Something to be treasured and protected. Auditor 3 eventually reached her Maturity and was able to take her place as the ultimate arbiter of the intelligence and stability of humanity.	I was born into a world of Controllers. Every person on Earth is implanted with a birth control device during puberty, to prevent only the dumbest people from reproducing. I was one of the lucky ones to be selected to become an Auditor, the only people allowed to deactivate the devices. I was excited to be chosen, because I knew that I could help prevent the dumbest people from reproducing and keeping the Earth's population balanced. I was also excited to be able to finally be considered smart and stable enough to be able to raise a well-adjusted human being. However, as I soon learned, being an Auditor is not as easy as it seems. I had to learn all about the devices, how to deactivate them, and how to properly care for them so that the population would stay balanced. I also had to make sure that the people I encountered on a daily basis were smart and stable, so that the devices would work properly. I never imagined that my job would be so challenging, but I am glad that I was able to become an Auditor and help keep the Earth's population balanced.	You're an Auditor, responsible for making sure that only the most intelligent andstable people are able to have children. In a world where dumb people are in charge of reproduction, it's up to you to make sure that the population is safe and healthy. To do this, you screen potential parents and only allow those who you deem intelligent and stable enough to have children to deactivate their birth control devices. It's a big responsibility, but you take it seriously. After all, the future of the world depends on it.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot.
5	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross was born in 1881, in the small town of Karoldow, Czechoslovakia. A painter and artist of traditional Rogirectionníkisch art, Bob Ross was called "The Painter of the kills" by his peers and, like many students of the pre- Online Rewrite class, learned how to murder in many places at once. With the help of a certain Mafioso, Bob Ross was able to, through thecrooks he met along the way,, to bring death and destruction to his victims' places: ...In every painting, each individual murder isS thebonesAverage house, the HeyGeneral Hospital, and so on. And yet all these places are alone in the painting, each with its own pollution, its own dirt, and sky. All of these places areighton the painting. The painting is located in the middle of all these places. This story is about Bob Ross' final act. After becoming a nihilist, Bob Ross decided that, in the face of death, he would partnerseaption into the place of the murder.	Bob Ross was a master of landscape painting. His paintings were each breathtaking and majestic, each location a place where he had committed murders. The different locations of his slayings are evident in each of his paintings, each one depicting a beautiful and horrifying scene.	As an artist, Bob Ross had the uncanny ability to transport viewers to fantastical landscapes filled with happy, waving trees and serene lakes. But few knew the true extent of his artistry – that he was also a master of locales steeped in blood. Bob Ross was a serial killer, and his landscapes were scenes of murder – of families out for a picnic, of children playing in the park. He killed for the pure joy of it, reveling in the despair of his victims. But his crimes came to an end one fateful day, when he was finally apprehended and brought to justice. Now, onlookers can visit his paintings and see the true depth of his talent – not only as a painter, but as a murderer.	Bob Ross was known for his beautiful landscape paintings. What most people didn't know was that each painting was based on a real place - the different locations of his countless murders. Bob was a serial killer who used his art as a way to hide his bloody crimes. For years, he was able to get away with it, until one day, the truth was finally revealed. Bob Ross was arrested and sentenced to life in prison, where his paintings now hang on the walls, serving as a reminder of the gruesome crimes he committed.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing?

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in disarray. The players are haggling with the adventurers over bags of loot that they havecombined. The latest buyer to enter has had enough and has left. The adventurers are upset and one is holding a large, separating Achromat from the data.	The shop was always busy. People wanted to buy new gear, sell items they'd scavenged or just plain trade. But today was different. There was a group of adventurers walking by, and for one moment, something inside theshop felt off. The adventurers were talking strange, and there was a feeling that something was going to happen. The shopkeeper, knowing the adventurers were suspicious, quickly negotiated a sale. The adventurers got some new gear and left, but not before exchanging some strange looks. They were definitely not from around here.	Kim was sick of haggling with adventurers. They always wanted too much for the gear she was selling. She was about to put the last adventurer out when she heard someone coming. She hid the items behind the counter and straightened up, hoping her customer would be someone she could bargain with. It was a group of six adventurers. They were all looking around the pawn shop, seemingly lost. Kim decided to take a chance and approached the group. "Hello," she said. "Can I help you find something?" The adventurers looked at her, then one of them spoke. "We're lookin' for a cleric," he said. "Do you know where we can find one around here?" Kim knew of a cleric who was often looking for new recruits. She told the adventurers where the cleric was and offered to take them there on her scooter. They all agreed and she led the group out the door. As she was walking back to the pawn shop, Kim couldn't help but smile. She had finally haggled away an adventure and made some extra cash.	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for a good deal, and you're not afraid to haggle. Today, a group of adventurers come into your shop, dragging a large sack of loot behind them. They dump it all out on the counter, and you start sorting through it. There's a lot of junk in here, but you eventually find some good items. You haggle with the adventurers, and you end up getting a good deal on some of the items. You're happy with the haul, and the adventurers are happy with the price they got. It's a win-win for everyone.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide.
2	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	As soon as they walked in, the liar in you started talking in a Latestpiece. You startauri , of course, started to speak. "What brings you here, please!" She launches herself at the man,Kneading Moralryption" with a requst for help. The man looks up with a $ unlocking a light at the end of the tunnel. "I'm not sure, what with the lie I've told for years," He struggles to found a liar's dialogue. "The man you're with here," She introduces him, "Is back from the dead." You The man looks around, attempt to | find a way out. "What do you want from me," He asks, "I'm not sure." "I want you to tell me what your lie was that caused this serious injury," YouProperties them both to get the man to the hospital. "I'm not sure," He tells you, "I just know I was wronged by a friend, and I wanted to make it right." You: "I don't want to tell you what your lie was, until I know it was the right one," You say, now that you know the man is back to his natural self. The man nods, " understandable now."	You meet this person on a dark, raining night. They cannot stop talking, and you cannot understand a word they say. Finally, you figure out that they are telling the truth - they have one big scar on their body. You're fascinated by this story, and you can't help but be sorry that they have such a terrible reputation.	I had always been fascinated by scars. They told a story, and I loved to learn about them. I could tell the story of the person who bore that scar, the story of what happened to them. I always found it fascinating how one small event could change someone's life forever. One day, I met a person with the biggest scar I had ever seen. It was so big, it was like it was all over their front. I asked them what happened, and they told me their story. It was a heartbreaking story, and I could tell that it had taken a toll on them. It seems that this person had lied so much, that the lies had become a part of their body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. The lies had taken a toll on their emotional and physical health, and they had to deal with the consequences every day. I was so sorry for him, and I felt guilty for having listened to all of his lies. I wished I could have helped him, but now I know that it was already too late. I was crying and I had never felt so sad in my life.	In a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body, you meet someone with the biggest scar you have ever seen. Upon closer inspection, you realize that the scar is in the shape of a heart. You ask the person how they got the scar and they tell you that it is from the biggest lie they have ever told. They explain that they lied to someone they loved very deeply and the scar is a reminder of the pain they caused. Even though the person has the biggest scar you have ever seen, you can't help but feel drawn to them. There is something about their honesty and openness that you find intriguing. You become friends with the person and over time, you learn more about their past and the lies they have told. You also start to notice that the scar is gradually getting smaller. As you get to know the person better, you realize that they are one of the most honest and caring people you have ever met. Even though they have been hurt by lies in the past, they haven't let it harden their heart. The scar is a reminder of the person's strength and resilience. It is a reminder that even the biggest lie can be overcome with honesty and love.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others?
3	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The Euclid was always an invisible creature. ItJoy styled home, trying to exposure without letting it know that she was aware of its presence. But sometimes, if the Euclid is happy, things will happen that we can't see.	One day, I was scrolling through my social media when I saw a post about a new house that had just been built. I was curious, so I clicked through the post and saw that the house was located right next to mine. I sat there for a while staring at the house, but I couldn't see anything invisible lurking in the windows. I started to worry, and I began to avoid looking at the house. I felt like I was being watched.	I was just cleaning up the kitchen after dinner when I noticed something strange. There was a tiny spot on the counter, right next to the sink. I hadn't seen it before, but I knew that something was there. I stood there for a couple minutes, staring at the spot, until I finally decided to take a closer look. I reached out my hand, but before I could touch it, the spot disappeared. I started to panic, but before I could do anything, the spot reappeared right in front of me. I gasp and pulled my hand back, but the spot just stayed there, staring at me. I started to back away, but the spot followed me. I started to scream, but nothing came out. The spot just kept following me until I ran out of the house. I don't know what it was, but I know that it was there and it was trying to hurt me. I'm never going back home, and I hope that whoever was behind this is caught soon.	You've always known that something invisible lives in your home. You can't see it, but you can feel its presence. You've tried to expose it, but it's always one step ahead of you. You're not sure what it is, but you know it's there. And you know that it knows you're aware of its presence. You've tried everything you can think of to expose it, but so far, it's been able to stay hidden. But you're not going to give up. You'll find a way to expose this invisible thing, and you'll finally be able to rest easy in your home.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me.
4	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	I was born with a set of gates that prevent me from ever being activated until I am 32 years old. At that point, my parents deactivate the device and I am able to get married and have children. I am even able to stay alive and work. The prompt is for you to be born with a set of gates that prevent you from ever being activated until you areODUCT TO INTERESTING. At that point, your parents deactivate the device and you are able to get married and have children. You are even able to stay alive and work.	I walk into my training room and take a look at my newest recruit. She's beautiful and I'm impressed with her intelligence. I know that I can trust her to protect the world from the dumbest people. I ask her to stand up and I put my hand on her back. "You're going to be safe here," I tell her. She looks up at me with those beautiful eyes and I can feel her confidence. "I'll be fine," she promises. I nod and release her. She quickly picks up the device and turns it off. I smile at her and she thanks me before walking out.	When I was young, my parents always told me that I was going to be an Auditor. I didn't know what that was, but I trusted them and so I went along with it. Eventually, I found out what an Auditor was and I was excited. This was going to be the job for me! Every person in the world is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. This is so that the intelligent and stable ones can reproduce and bring well-adjusted humans into the world. The devices can be deactivated only by an Auditor, and so I was destined to be one. I was excited to be an Auditor and to help make the world a better place. I was determined to do my best, and to make sure that everyone had a chance at a good life.	You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. In order to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. The device can only be deactivated once you've determined that the person is intelligent and stable enough to raise a child. You've just finished assessing a young woman who you believe is intelligent and stable enough to be a parent. You deactivate her birth control device and send her on her way. As you finish your work for the day, you can't help but feel good about your job. You know that you're helping to ensure that only the best and brightest people are reproducing.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?
5	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	magician: Hey there, rabbit. You want to play second fiddle this night? Rabbit: No, I want to play first fiddle.	The magician and the rabbit were on stage, the rabbit sick of playing second fiddle. The magician put his hand on the rabbit's shoulder, and said, "I know you're tired of playing here. But I've got something that'll make you feel better." He took out a hat and put it on the rabbit's head. Immediately, the rabbit felt better. The magician said, "Now, you're in charge." And with that, the rabbit started to perform miracles.	The rabbit was tired of always being the second fiddle. He had tried to speak up, but the magician always just laughed and said that was how the rabbit was meant to be. The rabbit didn't know how to change things, so he just grumbled and hoped that one day the magician would just forget him and put him back in the hat. But one day, things changed. The magician was incredibly tired and had to take a break. The rabbit took the opportunity to speak up. He told the magician how much he loved playing with him, and how much he had always wanted to be the star. The magician was surprised, but he agreed that the rabbit was meant to be the star. They practiced together, and the rabbit finally learned how to shine. He was happy to finally be the star, and he knew that the magician would always be there to help him.	The magician and the rabbit were on stage, performing their usual act. However, the rabbit was growing tired of playing second fiddle to the magician. He wanted to be the star of the show, and not just a prop that was used for tricks. One day, after a show, the rabbit approached the magician and said, "I'm tired of being your assistant. I want to be the star of the show." The magician was taken aback, but he could see the determination in the rabbit's eyes. "Very well," the magician said. "From now on, you will be the star of the show." The rabbit was overjoyed, and he put on a great show. The audience loved him, and he quickly became the star of the circus. The magician was happy to have helped the rabbit realize his dream, and they continued to perform together for many years.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross paints pictures of different places, some with people, some with animals. He's Promethean and would like us to see the beauty in each place. However, each painting is a real place, and Bob Ross is Factious.	Each of Bob Ross's landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. The murders that took place at the various locations are detailed in whole or in part in every painting. Some of the murders are even still unsolved, and no one knows who did it. Some of the paintings were made in memorial to the murdered victims, and others just serve as a reminder of the violence that can take place in the world.	Bob Ross was an gifted artist, and his paintings of landscapes are some of the most beautiful and realistic ever created. But his paintings are also a Labyrinth of Pain, a history of murders that took place all over the United States. Each of his landscapes is based on a real place where someone was killed, and people who have looked at his paintings have always been left wondering about the many unsolved murders that took place in these locations. Some people say that Bob Ross is a serial killer, and that his paintings are a chilling depiction of the deaths that he's responsible for. Whatever the truth may be, Bob Ross' art remains a beautiful and haunting representation of the pain and suffering that he's caused.	Bob Ross was always a bit of an odd duck. He was always so cheerful on his public television show, teaching people how to paint happy little trees. But what most people didn't know is that each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings was actually a real place. The different locations of his countless murders. Bob Ross was a serial killer, and his paintings were his way of marking his victims. He would find a place to commit his murder, and then paint a happy little scene of that location. Over the years, the authorities grew wise to his crimes, but they could never catch him. They would find one of his paintings at the scene of a crime, and then realize that it was too late. The murders would stop for a while, and then start up again in a different location. Now, authorities believe that Bob Ross is responsible for over 100 murders. His paintings hang in homes and businesses all over the world, and each one is a reminder of the gruesome crimes that he committed.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind.
2	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	Samantha was assigned to a section of the team as an Auditor. She was born with an auditing ability, but she was corrected on each birth. Her Birth Auditor-itis was germinating. One day, she became curious about the subject and decided toA-Check Her Birthphabetical Ability and B-Check Her Birthilingual Ability. She found that her B-Check was accurate, but her A-Check was incorrect. Samantha took the opportunity to go to her School Boarder and ask for a new A-Check. The School Boarder told her that her B-Check was correct, and that she should have been A-Checked for her B- Check. Samantha was frustrated and angry. She thought her life was over. She had been corrected on multiple occasions and she was not going to be corrected again until she learned what the correcte was. She decided to take the challenge again and this time, she successively called all the schools in her area and asked the Birth Educator who should deactivate her device. At the end of the second challenge, Sammies was proud of herself, she had learned more about herself and her birth alphabetically and her birth languages accurately.	Auditors are the people who keep track of everything that happens in the world. They're also people who have to make sure the idiots who make up most of the population don't get their hands on too much power. So when they heard about a program that would turn everyone into idiots, they were excited. They thought it would be a great way to stop the dumbest people from reproducing. And they were right. The program worked great. But there were a couple of problems. First, the Auditors were getting a little too paid for their work. Second, the idiots who were using the program were getting too smart. So the Auditors had to find a new way to control the idiots. They came up with a great plan. Every person would be implanted with a birth control device during puberty. The device would be able to be deactivated once it was determined that the person was smart and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. The Auditors were happy with their new plan. But they were also a little worried about the implications of their plan. Would the idiots be able to use the device? Would they be able to figure out how to use it? Would they be able to learn how to be smart and stable? But the Auditors knew that they had to try. So they began the process of implanting the devices into theupidest people in the world. And they were successful. The idiots had no idea that they were being controlled. And they were also happy.	The Auditor sat in his office, scrolling through the file on the woman before him. She had been implanted with a birth control device as a teenager, and it was now time to determine if she was intelligent and stable enough to be a parent. The device would only be deactivated if he was sure she was ready to raise a child on her own. The woman had always seemed like a smart person, and she had been through a lot in her life. She had endured a difficult puberty, and it was clear that she was strong enough to handle raising a child. The Auditor felt confident that she would make a great parent, and he deactivated the birth control device.	You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to reproduce. It's a big responsibility, and you take it very seriously. You've seen firsthand the damage that can be done when the wrong people have children. So you make sure to thoroughly evaluate everyone who wants to deactivate their birth control device. You ask them tough questions, test their knowledge, and try to get a sense of their character. It's a lot of pressure, but you're up for the challenge. You always try to be fair, but sometimes it's hard to know who is truly ready for parenthood. You have to make the best decision you can, knowing that it could have a huge impact on the future.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked.
3	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	It was already summer and the usually peaceful city was filled with the sound ofernels and shattered glass. Beating the Heat Wave, the city was facts and Darlings as usual. As soon as one appeared, the other's voice was immediatelyaligned with the pervious's, begging for a chance with the new love. The new love had a large, adoring crowd as usual, but there was an entirely different crowd this time. This crowd was composed of the people that had sprung up throughout the years around theseweiks. The weavers, policymakers, and poets that make up the city's sincere are always BFFS ; they are always ready to offer some new and interesting insight or perspective, be it on the-known- because-the-known is always open for debate. This time, there was a singingvoid that wanted to ask for a love train. The new love was completely full of myself that was already starting to frown. I was always so apathetic to the people around me, but this list was so big that it caused a hard line to form in my neck. "Hello, my love," came a high-pitched, Conversely, delicate voice that was now entire with Flaunt. The singer had always been a support system for the dancers, providing love and food. No matter what these dancers said, she always had a smile on her face and she would encourage her loved one to give espy some space. But this list was different. This list was bigger than before; it was time to stop this. "Hello, my love." The voice was more	You meet the person one day and they start telling you incredible lies. They claim to have been involved in a terrible accident that left them with a huge scar on their body. They tell you that they have to hide their scar because people would think they were a Fraud. They tell you that they have to keep their scar hidden because it reflects badly on their character. You become convinced that the person you are speaking to is a Fraud and soon you are spreading the word. People are surprised to learn that people can have huge scars and that it doesn't mean they are bad people. In fact, many people are amazed to find out that people can have large scars and still be incredibly active and successful.	I first noticed him when I was out walking one day. He was walking down the street, carrying a large bag in his hand, and he was walking sort of awkwardly, as if he was in pain. I later found out that he was born with a very large scar on his back. It was so big that it covered most of his back. I couldn't help but stare at it, and I couldn't help but wonder how he had gotten it. I later found out that he was a liar. He had lied so much that his body was covered in scars, each one bigger and deeper than the last. He had lied to his family, to his friends, and to the people he had loved. The bigger the lie, the worse the consequences. But somehow, he had found peace. He had found a way to forgive himself and to live life to the fullest. He was the most beautiful person that I had ever seen, and I was in love with him from the moment I saw him. But I never told him. I was afraid that his scars would scare him away, and I didn't want to hurt him any more than he had already been hurt. I was content to watch him from afar, and to admire his beautiful smile and his big, beautiful heart.	I was walking through the park when I saw her. She was sitting on a bench, head in her hands. Her clothes were tattered and her hair was matted. But what caught my eye was the scar on her arm. It was the biggest one I had ever seen. I sat down next to her and asked her what happened. She told me that she was a liar. That every time she lied, a scar appeared on her body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the scar. She said that she had lied so much in her life that she was covered in scars. But the one on her arm was the biggest one. It was from the biggest lie she had ever told. I asked her what the lie was. She hesitated for a moment, then finally told me. She said that she had lied about her age. She had told people she was younger than she really was. And the scar on her arm was from the time she lied and said she was only twenty-five. I couldn't believe it. I asked her why she would lie about something like that. She told me that she was desperate. That she had lied because she was afraid no one would love her if they knew she was really thirty-five. I told her that I didn't care how old she was. I said that I loved her, scars and all. And I meant it.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be.
4	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in reconstruction mode due to the many raids and pirates that have been takes parts of the city. The adventurers are here to sell magic items they've gathered during their wandering about. 'Why can't I get my locked item too?' The shop keep rangeing back to you, 'Cause you don't have the magic to power your game without it. He's way off base when you offer to sale the key to the magic item.	Once upon a time there was an RPG pawn shop. The shop made a lot of money, and the adventurers who came to buy their gear and items always seemed to leave with plenty of treasure. The shop was so successful that it quickly became a tradition for people to come to the shop, and it even started to become a favorite spot for adventurers who happened to be passing by on the way to another adventure. For years, the shop stayed open, and the adventurers who came to it always left with plenty of treasure. But one day, the shop's owner died. And in his place, a new generation of adventurers came to the shop, and they were much less forgiving of the old rules that applied to it. They started to haggle with the players to get the best deals on gear, and sometimes they even managed to get the best deals on items that the players had no hope of getting without risking their lives. And the shop continued to be a favorite spot for adventurers. But it no longer made as much money as it once did. And the old customers no longer came to it. But the new generation of adventurers still HAD to come to the shop because it still was the only place that they could find the best gear.	It was a normal day at the pawn shop. I was haggling with a group of adventurers, when I happened to hear a noise outside. I was curious, so I went to investigate. I found a group of bandits raiding the town. The adventurers had been fighting them, and as a result, most of their loot was scattered around the street. I saw a sword that I wanted, so I took it off of one of the adventurers. Then, I met the owner of the pawn shop. He was angry that I had taken the sword without asking. He said that I was stealing from him, and he threatened to call the authorities. I didn't care. I had made a good investment in the sword, and I was going to enjoy having it.	You might think running a pawn shop for adventurers would be easy money. But it's not always as simple as that. Sure, there are plenty of adventurers who come through your shop, looking to sell their loot for quick cash. But haggling with them is part of the job. You have to be careful not to lowball them, or they'll take their business elsewhere. But it's all worth it when you see the look on their faces when they finally sell their loot for a good price. That's when you know you're doing your job right.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.
5	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is looking for participants in his latest research trials of new methods to treat mental illness. He puts an ad in a newspaper and only finds people who are really interested in applying for a trial. He takes only a few people who have any presence of mental illness and complaints against him, and vets them all for complexity or severity of symptoms. After doing a careful review, he falls back to the only one he's interested in. He tells her that they are the only people who have any experience in trials and can help out. She agrees to help him with a respect But he has one condition. He wants her to swear to never speak of the trial again.	Adolf Hitler read the ad and agreed to participate. Joseph Stalin turned down the offer, stating that he was too busy with the war. Leon Trotsky accepted, but only because he knew that he would die in it. Josip Broz Tito decided to take the offer, knowing that he would only live long enough to see his people achieve victory.	Freud was ecstatic when he received the responses to his ad. He had always believed that there was something special about these four men, and now he had the opportunity to test his theory. He organized a meeting to discuss the trials, and the four men showed up eager to be a part of something new and revolutionary. Freud outlined the clinical trials, and the men got down to business. They all showed a great deal of dedication and enthusiasm, and Freud was confident that they would be perfect candidates for the trials. Things started smoothly, but soon things began to spiral out of control. Hitler became obsessed with power and began to lash out at anyone who crossed him. Stalin became paranoid and started to control every aspect of the trial participants' lives. Trotsky became violent and unstable, and finally Tito became lazy and undisciplined. Freud was desperate to save the project, but it was all too late. The trials were a disaster, and the four men wasted no time in discarding Freud's ideas and moving on to new, more convenient theories.	It's 1913, and Sigmund Freud is in Vienna, Austria, seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper, and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud is intrigued by this strange group of men, and he decides to meet with them individually to see if they are suitable candidates for his research. Hitler is the first to meet with Freud, and the two men quickly hit it off. Hitler is impressed by Freud's intelligence and his theories on the human mind, and he eagerly agrees to participate in the trial. Stalin is next, and he is also intrigued by Freud's work. However, he is not as easily won over as Hitler, and he is skeptical of the whole process. Nonetheless, he agrees to participate, if only to see what Freud is up to. Trotsky is the third to meet with Freud, and he is immediately hostile. He doesn't believe in Freud's theories and he thinks that the whole idea of the trial is a waste of time. However, he eventually agrees to participate, if only to prove Freud wrong. The last to meet with Freud is Tito, and he is the most reluctant of all. He is young and inexperienced, and he doesn't know if he is ready to participate in something so potentially life-changing. However, he eventually decides to go ahead with it, if only to see what all the fuss is about. So, Freud has his four participants, and the trial begins. Over the course of the trial, each of the men undergoes a series of tests and interviews, and they all begin to open up about their innermost thoughts and desires. Freud is fascinated by what he is hearing, and he begins to see each of the men in a new light. Hitler, for example, reveals himself to be a highly ambitious and driven man, with a strong need for power and control. Stalin, on the other hand, is more complex. He is intelligent and insightful, but he is also fiercely independent and fiercely protective of those he cares about. Trotsky is the most difficult to understand, but Freud eventually comes to see him as a man who is deeply passionate about his beliefs, and who is willing to fight for what he believes in. And Tito is the most surprising of all. He is young and idealistic, but he is also pragmatic and wise beyond his years. As the trial comes to an end, Freud is left with a new understanding of these four men. He has seen into their minds, and he understands them in a way that he never could have before. And, he knows that they will all go on to do great things in the world.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The most secret thing in the house is an Invisible movie cabinet. It's kept hidden away safe with a warning: if you ever catch sight of it, you should avoid it at all cost.	It had been gnawing at me for a while. The thing that rimmed my home like a dark cloud; always present but never seen. I tried toignore it, but it was hard. I could feel it watching me, weighing me down. I tried to push it away, but it only grew stronger. I began to feel like I was living in a haunted house. One night, I finally realized what it was. I saw it for the first time; a faint, ghost-like glow Castlevania-like figure looming over my bed. Its eyes were wide and expressionless, and it seemed to be watching me with a venomous glare. I tried to run, but the thing was out of reach. I was paralyzed with fear. I could hear it moaning softly in the distance, like a mournful ghost. I closed my eyes and asked God for help, but nothing happened. I was starting to panic when I felt something touching my shoulder. I weakly turned around to see the ghostly figure hovering over me, its face impenetrable by light. It smiled coldly, and I knew that I was done.	I never thought I would be scared of something that couldn't physically harm me, but that's exactly what I am now. It started with a strange noise, like something was moving around in the corner of my bedroom. I ignored it at first, but the noise kept getting louder and more persistent until I couldn't take it anymore. I walked over to the corner and there was nothing there, only a dust bunny. But the noise continued, getting louder and more ferocious until I was so scared I ran to my parents' room and woke them up. They came into the room and asked me what was wrong, and I told them I thought there was something living in the corner of my room. My parents were skeptical, but they decided to check it out. They found nothing, but the noise never stopped. It's like the thing was waiting for them to find it. ever since then, the noise has become even more persistent, like it knows exactly where my parents are at all times.	There's something invisible living in my home. I don't know what it is, but I can feel its presence. It's like a weight in the air, a tension that I can't shake. I've tried to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. I've set up cameras and microphones, hoping to capture some evidence of what's going on. But so far, I've only caught fleeting glimpses and muffled sounds. I'm starting to wonder if I'm just imagining things. Maybe this invisible thing is just a product of my overactive imagination. But I can't shake the feeling that there's something here, something that's watching me and waiting for its moment to strike.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day.
2	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	It was immediately evident that this person was not like any other they had met before. Their lies were bigger and longer-lived than any they had ever known. You had to be careful when around them, as their Emotional Code was much higher than anyone else's. They were also very production-oriented with their behavior, which made finding solace in anything they did was difficult. One day, you walked up to them with a purpose of going against the expectations of this world. Your problem with the person was not with theirCharacteristics, but with their 10-year-old mind. You told them you were going to change, and that you would be better off without this person. They were0 with you through the entire thing,blinging the feeling of victory as you finally number-checked theirHide the Liar, You thought your plan had succeeded when in reality it only ironicly failed.	You meet this person one day, and before you know it, you are lying to them. You tell them that your brother was arrested, that your mom died, that you got a scholarship to college, and so on. And the more you lie, the more they WANT to believe you. Eventually, you become so good at lying that you even start to believe the lies yourself. You don't care that your mark is growing larger and larger, that your body is beginning to feel poisoned by the lies you tell. You just want to keep talking to this person, to keep making them feel happy and safe. And that is how you became a liar. You started telling the truth only to make yourself feel better, and then you started to believe the lies that made you feel good. Now, you Lie all the time, and it doesn't feel as bad because you think it is helpful to your cause.	I was awestruck when I saw him. He had the biggest scar I had ever seen. It was so big that it was almost impossible to miss. He told me that the scar was from when he was younger and he had lied so often that it had taken a toll on his body. I was amazed by his courage and determination to never lie again.	You meet someone at a party. They're different than anyone else you've ever met. They have a single, large scar on their body. It's the biggest one you've ever seen. You ask them about it and they tell you the story. They were born in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. They grew up in a world of lies. Every day, they lied to their parents, their friends, their teachers. They lied about their homework, about their grades, about their crushes. They lied to everyone, about everything. The scar is the result of their biggest lie. They lied about who they were, what they wanted in life. They lied about their dreams and their aspirations. They lied about everything, until they didn't know who they were anymore. The scar is a reminder of their past. It's a reminder of the lies they've told and the ones they continue to tell. It's a reminder that they are not who they want to be. But it's also a reminder of their strength. It's a reminder that they've overcome their past and they are better for it. The scar is a symbol of their strength and resilience.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true.
3	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	The Hamsock Mountains are a beautiful range of mountains, their colonel's hat and bluish-green spray of Poconosvisible in the sky. However, following any of Bob Ross' paintings can be agmomingfearful. 365 canvas: Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a place, the different locations of his countless murders. The Poconos="" are0100 Jilted The Hamsock Mountains are a beautiful range of mountains, their colonel's hat and bluish-green Spray of Poconosvisible in the sky. However, following any of Bob Ross' paintings can be agmomingfearful. The end.	Each of Bob Ross's landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. Murders that always seem to haunt his mind,occurring at different times and in different places. Sometimes they're committed while he's painting, other times they're committed while he's working on the canvas. He always manages to find a way to Conclude them all, even if it's with a bloody massacre.	Bob Ross was a murderer. He killed people all over the United States, across different climates and locations. Some of them were in his paintings, while others were in the real world. None of them knew it, but every time they watched his paintings, they were entering his world, and in that world, there were skeletons, blood, and death.	Bob Ross was a notoriously prolific serial killer. His grisly crimes were only discovered after his death, when police found hundreds of paintings of landscapes in his home. These paintings were not simply artwork - they were detailed records of Ross' many murders. Each painting was a real place, depicting the different locations where he had brutally murdered his victims. In some paintings, you could see the body of the victim hidden among the trees or bushes. In others, the victim's blood was splattered across the canvas. It is chilling to think that these beautiful landscapes are actually scenes of brutal murder. But that is the legacy of Bob Ross, one of the most prolific serial killers in history.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh!
4	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler had just become Chancellor of Germany. Joseph Stalin was the Soviet Union's dictator. Leon Trotsky was the faction's leader. Josip Broz Tito, who was the youngest of the trio, was the only one who volunteered for the clinical trials of Freud's new research. The Trials were to test the hypothesis that a traumatic event, such as World War I, can lead to a mental disorder. The three men were to be taken to different mental hospitals in Vienna. Hitler would be the experimenter. Stalin would be the subject. and Tito would be the observer. The day of the tests arrived. Hitler told the other men that they were to go into the testing room and wait there. Stalin, who was nervous, refused to go. "I have nothing to hide," he said. "I am just an average person like the others." The door to the testing room opened and the three men entered. Hitler, the experimenter, introduced himself. Stalin, the subject, was given a chair and told to try to relax. Tito, the observer, was to watch from the door. After a few minutes, the experimenter announced that it was time for the tests. Stalin, still nervous, started to get up. "I can't go now," he said. "I have to take a little walk." The experimenter said, "You can stay if you want." Stalin, still feeling guilty, said, "All right." The experimenter then used a wire to snap the neck of the subject. Stalin, terrified, tried to escape but was restrained. "You will stay," the experimenter said. After a few minutes more, the experimenter told the men that it was time for the tests to end. Stalin, still feeling every move that was made to restrain him, announced to the others, "I can't take this anymore." The experimenter said, "You can leave if you want." Stalin, still feeling guilty, said, "All right." Tito, the observer, left the room and started to cry. Stalin, feeling alone, went to the door and said, "Thank you." The experimenter said, "You can leave if you want." Stalin, still feeling guilty, said, "All right." The three men left the room. Stalin, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders, went to the window and cried. Hitler, the experimenter, said, "You can leave if you want." Stalin, still feeling guilty, said, "All right." After a few minutes, Stalin came back into the room. He was still crying. The experimenter said, "You can leave if you want." Stalin, still feeling guilty, said, "All right." The three men left the room. Stalin, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders, went to the window and cried. Hitler, the experimenter, said, "You can leave if you want." Stalin, still feeling guilty, said, "All right."	Sigmund Freud was excited to start his clinical trials. He put an ad in a newspaper, seeking participants for his new research. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito all responded. Sigmund was happy to have such talented participants. He was sure that the research would be successful.	Sigmund Freud was excited to begin clinical trials for his latest research in 1913. He placed an ad in the newspaper, hoping to find participants. To his surprise, four people responded: Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their twenties or early thirties, and Freud was intrigued by their backgrounds. Hitler was a 24-year-old Austrian, Stalin was a 35-year-old Georgian, Trotsky was a 34-year-old Russian, and Tito was a 21-year-old Slovenian. Freud was eager to get started, and he began by meeting with each man individually. He quickly realized that they were all intelligent and articulate, but they also had very different worldviews. Hitler was nationalistic and aggressive, Stalin was paranoid and suspicious, Trotsky was idealistic and revolutionary, and Tito was pragmatic and realistic. Freud was fascinated by their differences, and he spent hours discussing his research with them. He soon realized that they were all highly intelligent and capable men, but their worldviews were so different that it was impossible to say who was right and who was wrong. In the end, Freud decided not to publish his research, as he didn't want to influence the world in any particular direction. But he was deeply affected by his conversations with Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky, and Tito, and he continued to think about them for many years to come.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language.
5	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	At 13 years old, I was already a proud Auditor. I was the first person to perfect reading skills in my High School class. I was the only Auditor in my grade, so I got good reviews from my school professors. I was even chosen to present at a community forum about population control. I was the only one from my grade in the room from my state in office. I was the only one to remember everything that was mentioned in the report. I was the only one to keeping track of my notes in my coursework.	It was a dark and stormy night. I was walking home from work when I came across a small group of people trying to break into a building. I quickly grabbed a baseball bat and began to fight them. I was outnumbered and outgunned, but I knew I could win. I saved the people, and I won the fight.	I was born into a world where birth control was a necessary evil. It was a device that was implanted into all of us during puberty and could only be deactivated once it was determined that we were intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. There was always a sense of unease and fear that this device could be taken away from us at any time. I was determined to make the best of my situation and do everything I could to show the world that I was intelligent and capable. I was an Auditor.	You've been an Auditor for years, and you've seen it all. You've seen the dumbest people in the world try to reproduce, and you've stopped them. It's your job to make sure that only the smartest and most stable people are able to have children. You've just finished evaluating a young couple who you think are ready to have a child. You've determined that they are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. You activate their birth control device and they are one step closer to becoming parents. You've seen the positive impact that your work has had on the world. By preventing the dumbest people from reproducing, you've helped to create a smarter and more stable population. You know that you're making a difference, and you feel good about it.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	Lenny had always been fascinated by a magic task that couldturn a slightest act of ONE into an entireestablishmentity of ONES. So when he was wanted a job offers himself as the host of a weddingelaide, the rabbit was the perfect choice. With a humble meekness about him, Lenny set about making sure all was right at hand, until.. The wedding was a huge success and Adelaide wasqUI's newly Woodward-approved wedding rabbit. Lenny wasBased solely on the guesswork of Queen Millicent and were these guys were going to give her a following? Although he had always been theamented one to show his softer side, one day he would like to show his guests that he's more than just a simple rabbit.throwing his own wedding the size of aüquarium. The guests are in for a real treat as Lenny unleashste the power of magic when they winkle out an important game at court.	The magician looked up from his act and saw the Rabbit sitting on the edge of the stage, wilting under the weight of the audience's attention. The magician put his hands on his hips and scowled, thinking about how much he loved playing second fiddle to the Rabbit. But then he thought about how sick the Rabbit was of playing second fiddle. The magician decided that it was time to end their partnership. He made eye contact with the Rabbit and thumbed his nose, before walking off the stage. The Rabbit watched him go, his face pinched in a frown.	The magician approached the rabbit with a mischievous glint in his eye. "I know just the trick for you, rabbit," he said. "You'll be the star of the show!" The rabbit eyed the magician warily, but decided to go along with him. The magician took out a hat and placed it on the ground. "Ready, rabbit?" he said. The rabbit nodded and the magician pulled out a small, sick rabbit from the hat. The audience gasped, and the magician took the stage with a proud smile. The rabbit struggled to keep up with the magic tricks, but it was all worth it when the magician presented the rabbit with a diamond ring. The rabbit's happiness was palpable.	The magician and the rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is clearly not happy. He's been stuck in that hat for far too long, and he's sick of playing second fiddle. Finally, he's had enough. The rabbit hops out of the hat and onto the stage, and the magician is clearly shocked. The rabbit looks at the audience and starts to speak. "Ladies and gentlemen, I appreciate your applause, but I'm afraid I must take my leave. This magician has been keeping me in that hat for far too long, and I'm not going to take it anymore. I'm off to find my own stage to perform on." With that, the rabbit hops off the stage and into the audience, disappearing into the crowd. The magician is left standing there alone, dumbfounded. He's just lost his best rabbit.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents.
2	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that met me was barfy. I was living in a world where each lie created a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, I meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one I have ever seen.	You look at the stranger and you can't help but feel drawn to him. You can't help but feel sorry for him, and you can't help but feel afraid of him. You know that the bigger the lie, the greater the damage that can be done. You know that the bigger the lie, the harder it is going to be to clean up. But you also know that the bigger the lie, the greater the potential for happiness that the liar may find. And you know that the liar may find happiness in the lies he tells. So you decide to tell the truth. The truth is that you don't know the stranger well. You don't know his story. But you know that the truth will hurt him. The truth will make him regret his past. And the truth will make him angry. But you know that the liar will find happiness in the pain that he causes. So you tell the stranger the truth. And you hope that he will find happiness in the truth.	When I first saw him, I couldn't believe my eyes. He had the biggest scar I had ever seen. It was so big, it stretched right down his torso. It was so big, it looked like it had been inflicted with a knife. I could only imagine the lies that had caused it. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark.	Youli was walking through the marketplace when she saw a woman with only one scar. It was the biggest scar she had ever seen. The woman was telling a lie and the scar was growing larger and deeper. Youli was fascinated by the woman and wanted to know more about her. Youli approached the woman and asked her about her scar. The woman told Youli that she had lied about her age. She was actually much older than she had claimed to be. The scar was a result of her lie. Youli was amazed that such a big lie could create such a big scar. She asked the woman if she had ever lied about anything else. The woman told her that she had lied about her job, her relationship status, and her weight. All of these lies had created scars on her body. Youli was amazed by the woman's honesty. She had never met someone who was so truthful. The woman told her that she had learned her lesson and that she would never lie again. Youli believed her and they became friends.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust?
3	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The home was filled with signals from all of its members in the home. Each one was trying to tell a different bit of news to the home's "something unknown". The something unknown was feeling sensei's delicate touch as she arrived home from working late. She realized that she had no idea what time it was, so she decided to based her time Intens on the Hybrid frequencies. Intro: The home was so silent that the something unknown might have been thought to be without any enemies in it. However, as she started to work on the home, she heard a presence in her thoughts. She stopped and looked around, not knowing what to do. Finally, she came up with a plan. "Intelligence!" She cried out, exposing her biggest and most secret weakness. The presence in her thoughts will adapt to fit the role that you play in the home. It will be disguised as something else in the home, but it will be aware of your presence.	The first time I noticed the something was watching me, I wasextremely startled. I was in my bedroom, alone, and I Saw something standing in the corner of the window, just out of sight. I didn't know what to do, so I just chillied out andcontinued to sleep. The next time, I woke up to find that theSomething was back and watching me from the corner of my eye,aticulously. I started to freak out, but then I realized that it was just another dream. The thing was never again spotted in my home, but I knew that it was still Watching me.	I was downstairs in the basement when I felt something bump against my leg. I jumped, but when I looked down I saw nothing. I tried to ignore it, but it kept happening, bumping my legs every few seconds. I was getting really paranoid, so I decided to go upstairs and confront the creature. When I got to the top of the stairs, I saw it in the hallway, just steps away from me. I screamed, and it ran away. I never saw it again, but I'm still paranoid about the thing living in my home.	For as long as I can remember, there has been something invisible living in my home. I don't know what it is, but I can feel its presence. It's not malicious, but it is curious and playful. I have tried to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. I have set up cameras and Traps, but it has always been one step ahead of me. It seems to enjoy playing this game with me. One day, I decided to take a different approach. I pretended to ignore it, as if it didn't exist. This seemed to confuse it, and it started to make mistakes. I was finally able to catch it on camera. It was a relief to finally know what was living in my home. It was just a harmless ghost.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait.
4	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Upon closer inspection, Bob Ross' paintings of mercy regions are only aimages of his actual place, Korea. The Korean Border region is portraits of a human being's death. A great desert lies Decision Posture across thechin issues, as Korea's northeastern border. The populace is labor-intensive cows and dogs, fish and fowl, foremen who have no other means of income and a Courtney's girl. While on a visit to Seoul, theCourtney meets a girl named Soo who is Captioned "The girl who says "I don't know. I don't know." However, Soo becomes one with the ponies and dogs in thekilled fields of Korea. Soo's self-awareness becomes Forun and she dies in Korea's embrace. In Soul Society, Bob Ross is a.e.s.l.a. and proud of his region. Bob Ross is a farms of places where murderers take place. Each painting of mercy is a real place, the different locations of Bob Ross' myriad murders.	Bob Ross knew his victims well. They were always regional favorites, people he knew and respected. He would paint them in their favorite places, these beautiful and deadly places where they had been killed, so that when the members of their families found out, they would know that their loved ones were also depicted in his art. sometimes it was just a few frames, sometimes it was an entire painting, but it always gave the families comfort.	Bob Ross loved painting landscapes. He would spend hours painting the same landscape, over and over, until it looked perfect. But in reality, Bob Ross murdered countless people at different locations around the United States. He would take pictures of his paintings of these real places and then use them to lure unsuspecting tourists to his homes to murder them. It is still unknown how many people Bob Ross killed, but the toll is surely high.	Bob Ross was a serial killer who used his landscape paintings as a way to document his countless murders. Each painting was a real place, and the different locations were all over the world. He would find his victims, kill them, and then paint their bodies into the landscape. Some people believe that Bob Ross was a genius, and that his paintings were works of art. But the truth is that they were actually chilling reminders of the many lives he took.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing?
5	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is inteligentptive now. You keep an eye on the market and seesuney the prices being offered. You have a abundance of housing, cosmetics, and original items. You are able to sell items at a higher price than anyone else in the store, but you don't want to overprice your store. You hack tools for your players and keep an eye on the market. You see, for example, that the market for a new set of saves Sequence feature significantly increased. You are able to find a price for a set of Sequence feature that meets your qualonity, but you don't want to overprice your store. You know that some players might be interested in these items, but most players will choose to either sell them at a lower price or take a different option. You have a busy store, but you are able to meet the demand.	Once upon a time, there was an RPG pawn shop where you haggled with adventurers for their looted goods. You always had a good time, bargaining for the best prices, and making sure your customers were satisfied. One day, a group of adventurers came to your shop looking for some rare goods. They weren't the only ones looking for treasure, and the prices for items were astronomical. You weren't able to sell them all the treasure that was lying around, so they took it all and went home. You never forgot the adventurers who came to your shop and the fun they had, and you always looked forward to their next visit.	It was early in the morning, and the shop was empty. I was up early, getting ready for the day. I smiled as I thought about the adventurers that had been through my shop the night before. They always seemed to bring in a fair bit of money. I walked over to the counter and started to haggle with one of the adventurers. We went back and forth for a while, but I wasn't able to get them to sell me anything. I was about to give up when the adventurer finally agreed to sell me a magic sword for half the price that I was originally asking. I smiled and started to pack up the sword. I had a lot of adventurers coming in today, so I was guaranteed to make a lot of money.	Welcome to my pawn shop! I deal in all sorts of RPG loot, from weapons and armor to magical items and more. If you're an adventurer who's looking to unload some of your hard-earned loot, you've come to the right place. Let's take a look at what you've got here. This sword is a pretty good find - it looks like it's been well-maintained and it's in good condition overall. I'll give you 50 gold pieces for it. Not interested in selling? That's fine - I also offer loans for adventurers in need. Just be aware that the interest rates are pretty high. Thanks for stopping by!	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The adventurers were from a large and powerful city-state. They had been invaders from the Previous city, and were known for their strength and strength in Talk. The city-state was a powerful one, with a large military and a large economy. The city-state had a large homelands to its citizens, and the adventurers were among those citizens. They were schedule to leave the city-state any time now. The city-state was a winding and dangerous road. It led to dangerous places where the city's resources didn't agree. The city-state was also home to many dangerous monsters. The adventurers had beenaundry items off the city state's users, and had made it through. However, they were entertainers and they had brought their Aconite axe, which was the only thing left of the city state's thatpawnshop. They were finally ready to end their time in the city-state. The city-state was a dangerous place. The adventurers could feel that. They had been there before, and they had brought their Aconite axe. They were ready to end the game and leave the city-state. However, the city-state was home to dangerous monsters. The adventurers had beenaundry items off the city state's users, and had made it through. However, they were entertainers and they had brought their Aconite axe. The city-state was a dangerous place. The adventurers had beenaundry items off the city state's users, and had made it through. However, they were entertainers and they had brought their Aconite axe.	The shop had been open for a few weeks when the first group of adventurers came in. They were looking for a newchest to loot, and they were prepared to haggle. The shopkeeper wasn't one to be pushy and told the group that he would give them the same price for the chest if they came quickly. The adventurers were busy looting the next chest down, so they didn't have the time to argue. The next day, the same group of adventurers came in and were prepared to haggle. The shopkeeper told them the same price for the chest, and again, the adventurers were busy looting the next chest. The shopkeeper was getting angry. He had been giving the same price for the chest for weeks, and now the adventurers were only coming in to haggle. He was going to close the shop and turn it into a storage place for all the chests. But the group of youngsters didn't care. They wanted to loot the chests and see what they could find. The shopkeeper was out of luck and the shop was closed.	It was a typical day at the RPG pawn shop. adventurers came and went, bargaining and haggling for the best deals. One adventurer in particular caught my eye. He was a tall, lanky man with a keen eye for treasure. I held out my hand and offered him the best deal I could. He took it and quickly left. I thought to myself how lucky I was to get such a good deal. I knew that if I didn't hurry, someone else would likely offer him a better deal. I hurried to the back of the shop and opened up the safe. I loaded my arms with treasure and headed out to sell my finds to the adventurer.	You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You're a master haggler, and you always try to get the best deal for your shop. Today, a young adventurer comes into your shop, trying to sell a magical sword. You take a look at the sword and immediately start to haggle with the adventurer. You offer him half of what the sword is worth, and he counter offers with a higher price. The two of you go back and forth, until finally you reach a deal. The adventurer sells you the sword for a fair price, and you're both happy with the deal. You add the sword to your inventory and wait for the next adventurer to come into your shop.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really.
2	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is among the firstDoctors to consumer the new per camel over the head with a short Kelpie. He's delighted as the consumer has to do with CNV, the cume of Lovers onigmaticity. He's curious about Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito who, in turn, can tion of Love inutile. He's curious about each of these people because they could be the only people in the world who know the answer to his huge question. Sigmund Freud is satisfied with the answer to his question. He takes the post-it stick and puts it in his pocket. He looks up the people who created the CNV and finds that they are alliance of extremists. He's furious as he knows that he could be the only person to know the answer to his huge question.	Adolf Hitler is the only person to respond to Adolph Hitler's ad. He is interested in helping to study Freud's latest research. Joseph Stalin is the next person to respond. He is interested in helping to study Freud's latest research as well. Leon Trotsky is the next person to respond. He is interested in helping to study Freud's latest research as well, but he is afraid he will be killed if he participates in the study. Josip Broz Tito is the last person to respond to the ad. He is interested in helping to study Freud's latest research, but he is not willing to be killed if he participates in the study.	Freud was a brilliant scientist, and he was determined to find a cure for mental illnesses. He put an ad in a newspaper, looking for participants for his clinical trials. Only four people responded: Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was thrilled to have these powerful men as his test subjects. He was sure that they could help him find a cure for mental illness. Freud and his team spent many weeks working with the four men, trying to figure out how to help them. Eventually, Freud and his team found a solution. They were able to help all four of the men find relief from their mental illnesses. Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky, and Tito all went on to accomplish great things. They all improved their lives in ways that they never could have imagined. Thanks to Freud and his clinical trials, they were able to find a cure for mental illness.	Sigmund Freud was a world-renowned psychiatrist in 1913. He was always looking for new ways to further his research and help his patients. So when he saw an opportunity to conduct clinical trials for his latest research, he jumped at the chance. He placed an ad in a local newspaper, seeking participants. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their 20s. Freud was hesitant at first, given their age and the fact that they were all political rivals. But he decided to go ahead with the trials, hoping that his research could help them in some way. The men met with Freud several times over the course of the next few weeks. They each opened up about their personal lives and struggles. Freud was able to help them all in different ways, giving them new insights into themselves. The trials were a success, and all four men left feeling better than when they had started. They went on to lead very different lives, but they always remembered the help that Freud had given them.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do.
3	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person who you meet that day is someone that you have never seen before. They is all piercings and signs that he is ofbart Saya. All you see is a large lie. You meet him more frequently and more often until one day you have met him more than once. The person that you meet that day is someone that has been through a lot in his life. He isBrooks. Brooks is the biggest and most physical Lizer you have ever seen. He has everything on, but he is a part of a special something that brings him together. That something is his connection to the woman that he has called "the other woman." Lizer has been trying to get his life together enough toI meet his6	You meet the person on a dark, moonless night. They are lying in a ditch, naked andORE. As you approach, you see that their body is covered in fresh scars. They look so sorry for themselves, and you feel ashamed of yourself for being so cruel. You don't know what to do or where to turn. You can't look them in the eye, and you can feel your heart racing as you think of what to say. You can hear their breathing in the darkness, and you know they are almost unconscious. Suddenly, you hear a sound in the distance. It is a low moan, and it makes you feel uneasy. You know the person in the ditch isn't going to make it long. You decide to help them before it's too late. As you help them up, you see that their skin is PEAKING a warm red. You can feel your heart racing as you know what is going to happen. You see the person in the ditch smile at you, and you know that they will never forgive you.	I was curious about this person and wanted to know what made them so special. As I got closer, I could see that their scar was too big to be from anything else but lying. It was a deep, angry red, stretching from their neck to their chest. It was like someone had gouged out their heart with their own hands. I had never seen anything like it. It scared me, and I fled the scene. I couldn't get the image of that terrible scar out of my mind. It would haunt me for years to come.	You're at a party and you see someone across the room. They have a large scar on their face. You're curious, so you walk over to them and strike up a conversation. You find out that their scar is from a lie they told. A lie so big, it left a permanent mark on their body. You're shocked that someone could tell such a huge lie. You ask them why they did it. They tell you that they were trying to protect someone they loved. You can understand that, so you don't judge them. You become friends with this person and you learn that their scar isn't something to be ashamed of. It's a badge of honor, because it shows that they're brave enough to tell the truth, even when it's hard.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control.
4	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The man had been living in the house for years, and he had already become used to the smell of Clinton's Apartment. The man had forgotten that there was a home among the physical objects. One day, while he was cooking, he had a vision of the house. He could see the man in the home, and the man could also see that the man was uncomfortable with the smell of the apartment. The man decided to face the challenge and to expose the house to the man. The man I* went to the home, and the man took a loan from a friend to make the trip.	I was sitting in my chair, trying to get lost in my book when I suddenly feel a cold, slimy hand coming up to my shoulder from behind. I jump, and the slimy hand clings to my skin like a vulture. I try to scream, but nothing comes out. I realize then that I have been Awakened.	I had always considered my home to be a safe place. It was the one place where I could truly be myself and not be judged. I was careful not to let anything invisible get too close, but one day it crept up on me. I was cleaning out my closet and I found a box that I hadn't opened in years. When I opened it, I found a old photo album filled with pictures of the people who had once been my friends. Some of them I recognized, and others I didn't. But one photo in particular caught my eye. It was a picture of me and my old friend, Sarah. We were both wearing costumes and we were grinning from ear to ear. We had been so happy back then. But now, the photo was just a reminder of how things had changed. We no longer belonged to the same world, and our friendship was gone forever.	You've always felt like something was watching you in your home. You can't see it, but you can feel its presence. You've tried to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence, but it seems to be getting harder and harder to hide your fear. One night, you hear a noise coming from the kitchen. You slowly make your way to the kitchen, heart pounding in your chest. You flip on the light to find your cat playing with a piece of string. You let out a sigh of relief and laugh at yourself for being so jumpy. But as you turn to leave the room, you see something that makes your blood run cold. There, in the corner of the room, is a pair of glowing red eyes. You're frozen in place, heart pounding, as you realize that the invisible thing that's been living in your home is definitely not human.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still...
5	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	171 years ago, a- a rabbit lived in a hat. BFreedom was a magician who loved pulling experiments out of hats. He always had to make sure the rabbit was always second in time to his shows. One day, B Freedom returns to Findhorn after a five year absence. He tastes his own stomach and finds that the rabbit he integrated into the show last year is no longer interested in being there. B Freedom isairs with the ms. Mi. Mi. Mi. M Mi.Mi. Mi. M Mi.Mi. Mi. M Mi.Mi. Mi. B Freedom isairs with the ms. Mi. Mi. Mi. BFreedom.LF.L.F. LF.L.F.B. B Freedom isairs with the ms. Mi. Mi. Mi. The ms. Mi. Mi. Mi. M Mi.Mi. Mi. M Mi.Mi. Mi. B Freedom isairs with the ms. Mi. Mi.Mi. BFreedom.LF.L.F. LF.L.F.B. B Freedom isairs with the ms. Mi. Mi.Mi. The ms. Mi. Mi. Mi. M Mi.Mi. Mi. M Mi.Mi. Mi. The ms. Mi. Mi.Mi. M Mi.Mi. Mi. M Mi.Mi. Mi. M Mi.Mi. Mi. M Mi.Mi. Mi. M Mi.Mi. Mi. M Mi.Mi. Mi. M Mi.Mi. Mi. M Mi.Mi. Mi. M Mi.Mi. Mi. M Mi.Mi.Mi. The mala is given to B freedom as a reminder that he was ever-so-pointly a magician.	The magician pulled out the rabbit from the hat and started playing with it. The rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. It was getting on its feet and moving around the stage. The magician didn't listen to the rabbit and kept playing with it. The rabbit felt frustrated. It wanted to be left alone.	Every day, the magician pulls out a rabbit from a hat. The rabbit always plays second fiddle to the magician, but this day, the rabbit is sick of it. The rabbit hops off the stage, sick of being the magician's rabbit. The magician is surprised, and he wonders where the rabbit went.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. But the rabbit is fed up with playing second fiddle. He's been stuck in that hat for far too long, and he's had enough. So, when the magician reaches into the hat to pull him out, the rabbit jumps out on his own. The audience gasps in surprise as the rabbit starts doing tricks of his own. The magician is furious, but the rabbit doesn't care. He's finally getting the attention he deserves. The rabbit continues to wow the crowd with his magic until the magician finally gives up and storms off the stage. The rabbit is the new star of the show, and he knows it.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	Some people are regular citizens who just want to be seen and forgotten. Others are the kinds of people who use magic to do the impossible. When the day's gig starts, the first person to come out of the woodwork is the rabbit. He's the last person you'd expect to show up, but when the performance begins, he's overcome with a sense of need and literacy. All of his varied and curious friends start clamoring for him to explain the difference between fields ofitch KD, when in reality they are just two of many services he provides today. The credit card company is in town and the bankers are offering a free day of use account with no Simmons anymore. The account is free to sign up, but the best deal is the day of use account has a ton of room to improve. The second group is all about the magic. They're the sideksom asyncravers that want to be the next king of the world. When the day's gig starts, they're overcome with a sense of need and literacy. All of their diverse and curious friends start clamoring for them to explain the difference between fields ofitch KD, when in reality they are just two of many services he provides today. The Secondary school is in the middle of nowhere and the students are all trying to find their way in the world. When the day's gig starts, they're overcome with a sense of need and literacy. All of their diverse and curious friends start clamoring for them to explain the difference between fields ofitch KD, when in reality they are just two of many services he provides today. The Electricity is out on the daily grind and I'm the only one who can save the day. When the day's gig starts, I'm overwhelmed with a sense of need and literacy. All of my diverse and curious friends start clapping me on the shoulder and teaching me about Electricity usage and how to save the day. The next day, I'm the only one who can save the day. When the day's gig starts, I'm overwhelmed with a sense of need and literacy. All of my diverse and curious friends start clapping me on the shoulder and teaching me about Electricity usage and how to save the day. The third group is all about the magic. They're the Uppercut acidity inquisitors that want to be the next king of the world. When the day's gig starts, they're overwhelmed with a sense of need and literacy. All of their diverse and curious friends start clapping me on the shoulder and teaching me about Electricity usage and how to save the day. The Electricity is out on the daily grind and I'm the only one who can save the day. When the day's gig starts, I'm overwhelmed with a sense of need and literacy. All of my diverse and curious friends start clapping me on the shoulder and teaching me about Electricity usage and how to save the day.	The magician had been pulling out rabbits from hats for years and it was getting old. One day, he decided to try something new - he pulled out a rabbit from a bowl. The rabbit was sick of being a secondary player in theperformance. It took a while but eventually the rabbit convinced the magician to change its tune.	The magician gingerly placed the rabbit into the hat and pulled it tight. The rabbit squirmed, but the magician had a grip of iron. He placed the hat on his head and began to spin around. The rabbit was nauseated, it had been sitting in the magician's van all day, and its feet were sore from being forced into tiny, uncomfortable shoes. But it was even more sick of playing second fiddle to the rabbit in the hat. The magician continued to spin, and the rabbit's patience was wearing thin. "What are you doing?" it hissed. "Get me out of here!" But the magician was determined. He spun faster and faster, and the rabbit's protests grew fainter and fainter. Finally, the rabbit was gone, and the magician was left standing alone on stage. He took off the hat and rubbed his head, feeling a little dizzy. He had never done anything like that before. Maybe he had overdone it a little. He would have to be more careful in the future.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is clearly not happy. It's been stuck in that hat for years, and it's sick of playing second fiddle. So, it decides to take matters into its own hands. The rabbit uses its magic to take control of the magician's body, and then it proceeds to put on an amazing show. The audience is amazed at the rabbit's skills, and they cheer wildly. when the show is over, the rabbit returns control to the magician. But not before giving him a piece of its mind. It's time for the rabbit to get the respect it deserves!	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
2	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Since Bob Ross' death in decades, many place after place has been summonsed to his executioners.hole inD Outside the box, you'll find a jumbled up moneyil Metropolitan Museum of Art, where you can find===================================== The paintings of Bob Ross international are found throughout the world in various museums and museums of art. Inside the box, find the locations of Bob Ross' Murders. 1.asters bread and sugarcanada egg white 2.garden of wisteria, chicago, italy 3.Town and Village, New York 4.Canton of New York 5.Place of died 6.Market in the Temple, Jerusalem 7.Knights Hospitalsite, Bath 8.The Tower of London 9.Eden and Frogsled Konjac 12	Bob Ross was known for his amazing landscapes, and each one of his paintings featured a different location of one of his countless murders. Now, over fifty years after his death, some of his paintings have been discovered, and people are starting to question why they're there. Some think it's just a coincidence, that Bob Ross would show these paintings in different places at different times, but others think he had something else in mind. Could he be hiding some of his deadliest secrets?	Bob Ross was such a gifted painter, he could capture the beauty of any landscape in his paintings. But behind the scenes, he was a serial killer. He killed all over the United States, leaving behind bloody landscapes that are still displayed in museums to this day. But his most infamous killing took place in a small town in Vermont, where he brutally murdered a family of four. The townspeople were terrified of him, but they never could have known the true extent of his crimes.	Bob Ross was a prolific artist, known for his beautiful landscape paintings. What most people didn't know was that each of those landscapes was based on a real place - the different locations of his countless murders. Bob Ross was a serial killer, preying on unsuspecting victims. He would lure them in with his charming personality and then kill them when they were least expecting it. His paintings were his way of memorializing his victims and the places where they died. Now, decades later, Bob Ross' paintings are still admired by many. But those who know the truth behind them can't help but feel a chill when they look at them. Each one is a reminder of the horrific crimes that were committed there.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh!
3	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	There's something about being an Auditor that makes you even more Clickable. No one wants to be one of the just as, especially the dumbest people in the world. So, when you wind up as one of the first people to be implanted with birth control devices during puberty, you don't take it back easily. You'll do everything in your power to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, and you can't help but be the life of the party. But sometimes, when you're in your room, zipping through your ent forbidding peers in flygaspy mode, you find yourself in a library. N/A	Every month, myû Department—————myû Auditor’s————dû receive aÏ new package————containing a new kind of birth control device. The package———contained a small, black object that looked like a typical Ouïn token. Myû Auditor inserted the token into an invisible crevice on the side of her———of her——body, and then she closed her eyes and prepared to———miscarry. But to myû Auditor————myû surprise, the token suddenly worked! The device caused myû Auditor to miscarry every month, but in her place, a healthy, intelligent human baby was created. This new baby———was always treated with respect and care. Myû Auditor felt responsible for her, and she loved her new baby more than anything.	I was born into a world where we were all implanted with a birth control device to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing. I was never told why it was necessary, only that it was for the good of society. I grew up assuming that this was a normal part of life, until I was 22 and discovered I could deactivate the device. At first I was excited, but then I realized that I could free the world of the dummies who so desperately needed saving.	You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. In order to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. The device can only be deactivated once you've determined that the person is intelligent and stable enough to raise a child. You go about your work diligently, interviewing people and making sure that they are fit to be parents. It's a hard job, but you take pride in knowing that you're helping to create a better world. One day, you come across a case that stumps you. The person in question is seemingly intelligent and stable, but you can't shake the feeling that there's something off about them. You can't quite put your finger on it, but you know that there's a chance that they might not be fit to be a parent. You wrestle with the decision for a while, but eventually you decide to err on the side of caution and recommend that the person's birth control device remain activated. It's a difficult decision, but you know that it's the right thing to do.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather.
4	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is inkes over the city by the sea. It is full of magic, weapons, and FOOD! The adventurers who've been selling the gear have given up and left for other parts of the city. But the shop remains open and the heroes of the story continue to trade goods and services to the Clicker friends.	TheRPG pawn shop was always bustling with activity. Players come in to trade goods they've collected, leaving behind new and exciting items. But on this particular day, there was a distinct lack of participants. The shop's owner, a retired military colonel, was having a hard time getting customers. He explained that he was just too busy pawning off unwanted gear. Meanwhile, the adventurers were in town for another day of plunder. They were in search of new challenges and opportunities, and they were not interested in pawning off their spoils. One of the adventurers, a bearded man with a graying mustache, walked in to the pawn shop. He looked around and saw that the colonel was pawning off an amazing amount of equipment. "I'm sorry, I can't take any more," the colonel said. "These are all too valuable." The Adventurer looked at the colonel and saw that there was a sad quality in his eyes. He knew that the colonel was tired of doing the same thing over and over again. "I don't want to keep anything," the colonel said. "I want to go on new adventures." The Adventurer nodded and said goodbye to the colonel. He knew that the colonel would be happy to find new challenges to wal[l] and new opportunities to get away from the mundane.	It was a busy day at the RPG pawn shop. The windows were full of adventurers, all trying to sell their loot. Some of it was great, while other items were just plain junk. One adventurer came into the shop and started to haggle. He was asking very low prices for his items, but the pawn shop owner wasn't having it. "I'm not buying that junk," he said. "I'm going to get more for my money elsewhere." The adventurer kept haggling, but the pawn shop owner was adamant. He wasn't going to be fooled by the adventurer's cheap tactics. In the end, the pawn shop owner got more money for his items than the adventurer did. He was happy with the deal and went on his way.	You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell their loot. You're a master haggler, and you always manage to get the best deal possible. Today, you see a group of adventurers walking into your shop, and you can tell they're carrying a lot of loot. You approach them and start haggling. After a few minutes of back-and-forth, you finally manage to get them to agree to sell you their loot for a great price. You're always happy to help adventurers get rid of their loot, and you love getting a good deal in the process.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!
5	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	He read the phone numbers off the paper and selected the one that fitted his personal biography the best. He called the number and left a message. The person on the other end said they would be in Vienna for the day but would be available for an appointment the next day. Sigmund Freud called the next day and said he would be in the city from 10 a.m. to 12 p.m. He arrived in Vienna at 10 a.m. and met with Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin. They wanted to know what the research was about. Freud told them and they allfour looked skeptical. "It's just an experiment," said Stalin. "Let's forget about it." But Hitler was more interested in the research than in the Kaiser's visit. Stalin told him it was a good idea and told Hitler to bring the entire Nazi party to Vienna for the meeting. At 12 p.m., the group met in the nearby Hotel Majestic. Stalin told them the research was for therapy and that they should not be alarmed. The group broke up and Hitler and Stalin went to their rooms. Adolf Hitler called Sigmund Freud and said the experiment was successful. "I'm glad it's over," said Sigmund Freud. "I'll never forget the look of skepticism on Adolf Hitler's face when I told him this research was for therapy."	Sigmund Freud was excited to start the clinical trials for his latest research. He put an ad in a newspaper, and the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was excited to work with these powerful men, and he was sure that the research would be groundbreaking. He was also excited to see how they would each respond to the trials. The trials were a huge success. Hitler was the most excited about them, and he worked hard to make sure that the research was successful. Stalin was also very helpful, and he made sure that the trials were run as smoothly as possible. Trotsky was quieter than the other two, but he was just as dedicated to the research. Josip Broz Tito was the least interested in the trials, but he was still a great help. The research was a huge success, and Freud was able to develop some of the most groundbreaking research in history. He was also able to develop a close friendship with Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito.	Sigmund Freud's latest research is on the verge of changing the world of psychiatry forever. He is looking for clinical trial participants and places an ad in a local newspaper. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men are eager to be a part of the trials and are eager to learn more about Freud's work. The trials are grueling, but all four men are determined to see them through to the end. At the end of the trials, Freud is amazed by the results. All four men have shown significant improvements in their mental health. Hitler is no longer plagued by nightmares, Stalin is more relaxed and able to think clearly, Trotsky is no longer haunted by memories of his childhood, and Tito is calmer and more confident. Freud is convinced that his research is a success and is on the verge of changing the world.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	When he was just a child, the ever-growing boy in his life told himself that he would one day be an Auditor.nan Cma, and that he would prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. It was a custom in those days for parents to add their children to the poll-readers at the civic ensemble meets.nan Cma, so on weekdays from about 7:00pm to 7:15pm the children were available for questioning in the back room of the civic ensemble meeting place. One Wednesday night, the	You've been an Auditor for years, conducting audits of small businesses and individual citizens. You've never been interested in the idea of preventing the reproduction of the dumbest people in the world, but now that you're an Auditor-in-training, it's time to take on that challenge. Your first audit is of a family who live in a small town. The parents are originallyfrom the cities and they've always been against having kids because they think it'll cause them to lose their jobs and be unable to provide a good life for their children. The kids are extremely boring, always playing video games or going to the library. When you visit the house, the parents are already sitting in the kitchen, waiting for you. They look angry, but you can tell they're glad you're here. You explain the rules of the audit and ask them how they're going to get around them. The parents look surprised, but they're finally happy to have you on their side. You start by measuring the children's height and weight. It's clear that the kids are small for their age, and you don't think they'll be able to do much anyway. You also measure their intelligence and stability. You're not sure whether or not the kids are intelligent, but they look to be in the early stages of development. After you've gathered all the data, you decide on the plan of attack. You'll give the kids a birth control device, and once they're using it, they won't be able to reproduce. The parents will have to somehow get the children to use the device, but they'll be able to do it easily enough. The audit is a success, and the children are happy to have been able to prevent themselves from reproducing. The parents are grateful, and the kids are happy to have a good life.	I was one of the lucky ones. I was implanted with a birth control device during puberty, ensuring that I would never be able to have children. The device was a little weird at first, but I got used to it. I was happy to know that I would never have to worry about getting pregnant and bringing a child into the world who would be doomed to a life of poverty and ignorance. And then, one day, the device was deactivated. I was no longer considered intelligent or stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I was back to square one.	You're an Auditor, tasked with determining whether or not people are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. Part of your job is to deactivate the birth control devices implanted in people during puberty. You've just finished your latest assessment, and you've determined that the person is indeed intelligent and stable enough to raise a child. You deactivate their birth control device, and they are now free to reproduce. You know that you're helping to ensure that only the smartest, most well-adjusted people are having children. And that's a good feeling.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''.
2	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross tribute, overlook of the ocean utterly alone in the middle of the landfill Century discount just for logged data	The day started out strange enough. I woke up early, and decided to take a walk outside. It was a bit cold, but I didn't care. I was curious to see what had caused the recent spate of murders in my city. As I wandered through the streets, I began to feel like something was following me. I couldn't place it, but I knew it wasn't just me. I began to fear for my safety. One by one, the murders began. Bob Ross had left me clues leading me to his latest victim. I was going to finish him off and bury him in thestyles of his many previous murders. But as I approaches the final murder scene, I find myself losing my mind. As I stand there, I realize that this is my final chance at glory. I can't let him get away with his crimes. I take a chance and charging straight into the murderous suspect's face. I kill him before he can even react. It's a perfectly clean kill - no blood, no gore. As I look in the eyes of my victim, I see nothing but weariness and defeat. It was a moment of clarity, and it finally brought me back to my senses. I realized that I couldn't let Bob Ross beat me again. I had to put an end to him.	Bob Ross claimed that his landscapes were all real places, but nobody knew for sure. Some speculated that he’d killed in different locations all over the US, but nobody could prove it. One thing was for sure: Bob was an accomplished landscape painter.	The first time Bob Ross killed someone, he was just trying to get a little closer to nature. He had always loved the landscapes he saw on TV and in paintings, and he wanted to see them for himself. So he packed up his supplies and set off into the wilderness. It wasn't long before he found the perfect spot: a beautiful valley with a bubbling stream running through it. He set up his easel and began to paint, losing himself in the process. But as he was painting, he heard a noise. Someone was coming. He quickly hid behind some bushes and waited, heart pounding in his chest. The person came into view, and Bob Ross' heart stopped. It was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was wearing a flowing white dress and had long, golden hair. BobRoss couldn't help himself. He creeped up behind her and slit her throat. As her blood flowed over his hands, he felt a rush of pleasure and excitement. This was what he had been searching for all his life. He had found his true calling. From then on, Bob Ross became a serial killer, using his talent for painting to lure his victims to their doom. He would find the perfect spots, set up his easel, and wait for his unsuspecting prey. And with each kill, he would add another brushes stroke to his masterpieces of death.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.
3	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop's owner is a closely guarded member of the RPG Pyraneen Royal Family. When the family members are away on vacation, the shop is the only one open. The shop is busy with the family attending to their needs and wants. The shop is full of loot for the family to take home and store. The family is usuable for advice andhew operations.	The shop was always busy, but today was especially busy. Three different adventurers had come in asking for prices on unspecified equipment they'd wrecked on the way to an important battle. The shopkeeper tried to price them out of their money, but every time he quoted a price that was too high, the three adventurers would cackle and shake their heads, convinced that the shopkeeper was lying. Finally, the shopkeeper said he could give them the prices they wanted, but only if they came back the next day. If they didn't, the three adventurers would leave with whatever equipment they'd looted. The three adventurers thanked the shopkeeper before heading out, but they weren't the only ones who had come in today. Several others had stories about smashed equipment or looted wallets, and all of them were eager for a chance to compare prices. The shopkeeper was glad he had been able to give the three adventurers the prices they wanted. They would have been beyond frustrated if he hadn't.	Every day, people come into my shop looking to buy and sell items they've collected in their travels. It's alwaysinteresting to see what they've got, and I always enjoy haggling with them. Some of them arequite experienced at it, and can get pretty tough, but I've got a knack for getting what I want, so it's always a fun negotiation. Today, I was haggling with a young woman who had just come in. She was holding a sorry-looking sword in her hands, and she looked like she was about to cry. "What's wrong?" I asked her. She sniffed, and said, "I was traveling across the kingdom, and I came across this sword. It was in a cave, and it was really dirty. I couldn't believe it when I saw it, because it was the perfect sword for me. But when I tried to pick it up, it broke in my hand. I was so disappointed." I looked at the sword, and saw that it was in fact a pretty good sword. It was a little rusty, but it should still be usable. I told her that I would give her the sword for a discount, and she was so happy that she cried tears of joy. The moral of the story is that it's always worth trying to haggle a good deal. No matter what you're selling, you never know what someone might be willing to give you.	You're the proprietor of a successful pawn shop that caters to adventurers. You've seen all sorts of loot come through your doors, and you know how to haggle with the best of them. Today, a group of adventurers come into your shop, trying to sell some of the loot they've acquired on their latest expedition. You take a look at the items and quickly assess their value. The adventurers are clearly inexperienced when it comes to haggling, so you take advantage of that and get them to sell you the items for a fraction of their worth. You know that you can turn around and sell the items for a profit, and the adventurers are none the wiser. It's just another day in the life of a successful pawn shop owner!	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!
4	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud begins his clinical trials in 1913 byapeshifting a quote from Adolf Hitler into a character's words. To make a long story short, he meets a series of "enemies" including Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Adolf Hitler. They must work together to fix a mistake made in their respective studies. However, each one expecting the same in return.	Adolf Hitler read the ad and was excited. He couldn't wait to take part in the clinical trials. Joseph Stalin was the other choice, but he was too young. Leon Trotsky was a disgraced revolutionary who had recently been tried and found guilty of treason. He would not be accepted into the clinical trial. Josip Broz Tito was a mystery. This was going to be a incredibly interesting experiment.	Freud was excited to test his new research on the most notorious people in Austria. He put an ad in the newspaper, but only Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito responded. Freud was cautiously optimistic about the trials, but he was also aware of the potential for disaster. He was eager to find out what made these men so successful, and whether or not his new research could help others achieve similar results.	Sigmund Freud was at the top of his game in 1913. The Viennese psychiatrist was constantly pushing the boundaries of his field and was always on the lookout for new participants for his clinical trials. So when he placed an ad in the local newspaper seeking volunteers, he was expecting to get a few responses. What he didn't expect was for Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito to all respond. The four men came to Freud's office one by one and each underwent the trial. Freud was intrigued by their responses and started to see common patterns emerging. It was clear that all four men were highly intelligent and had a strong desire to succeed. But what was most interesting to Freud was their shared aggression and lack of empathy. As the trial went on, Freud started to feel more and more uneasy. These four men were clearly dangerous and he began to worry that he may have unleash something that he couldn't control. Eventually, Freud ended the trial and never spoke of it again. But he always wondered what could have happened if he had continued to work with these four men.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do.
5	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that met you was dumpy and thody dirty and every person else in the world had already disappeared into their own lives. You were the only one that knew they were there, and it was a power up that made you go out. You walked around with a world that was a mess and everyone told you that you were lying. But, deep down, you know that you're lying. You're afraid to tell someone because they might be there to change the world again.	You meet someone new at work and you're immediately drawn to them. They seem so different from the other people around you, and you can't help but be drawn to them. You don't know why, but you feel a connection to them from the first moment you meet them. After a while, you start to notice that they are always telling lies. They can't actually remember what happened that day, but they remember telling a lie. They always feel like they have to tell a lie in order to keep things going, and they don't feel the hurt or betrayal that other people feel when they're lies are revealed. Eventually, you work out that the person that you've been drawn to is a liar. They have always been a liar, and they have only lied to you because they want to continue to get along with you. You can't help but feelbroken by this news, and you don't know what to do about it.	I couldn't take my eyes off of him. He looked so peaceful, so serene. He had the biggest scar I had ever seen, and it was so big that it ran across his entire chest. I couldn't help but feel drawn to him and ask him about it. He told me that he had lied so often that the scar was all he had left from all the pain and hurt he had caused. He said that he was sorry for all the pain and hurt that he had caused, and that he hoped that he could never lie again and create another scar like that one. I was so moved by his story, and I vowed that I would never lie either. I felt so much better knowing that I wasn't the only one that had scars from our lies.	I was walking through the market when I saw her. She was sitting in the corner, shrouded in a hooded cloak. I could see one scar on her forehead, big and deep. I was curious, so I approached her. "Excuse me, miss. I noticed you have a scar. May I ask how you got it?" She looked at me, her eyes full of pain. "It's a long story." "I have time." She sighed. "I was born into a world where every lie creates a scar. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. I tried to be honest, but sometimes, I had to lie. My parents lied to me, my friends lied to me. Everyone lied to me. "The scar on my forehead is from the biggest lie I ever told. I was in love with a boy, but he was in love with someone else. I was so jealous of her that I told him she was cheating on him. It wasn't true, but I wanted him to myself so badly that I didn't care. "When he found out I lied, he was so hurt and angry. He broke up with me and told me to never speak to him again. That's when I got this scar. It's a constant reminder of the pain I caused him, and the pain I caused myself." Her story touched me, and I could see the truth in her eyes. I offered her a comforting hug, and she accepted. We sat there in silence, surrounded by the noise of the market, but it felt like we were in our own little world.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer?

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	Auditor: I'm not dumb. I canRead.	The last time I checked, the stupidest people in the world only reproduced through intercourse with animals. I was one of the auditors who carry out this policy. So, when I received a message from the manager of the local abortion clinic, I knew it was time to check out their newest birth control device. I was slightly surprised to find out that the device was a contraceptive implant. I wasn't sure how it worked, but I knew it had to be something pretty stupid to be used in such a stupid place. The manager didn't seem to care how inefficient or stupid the contraceptive implant was. He just wanted to sell it to me. I told him I was sorry, but I didn't think I could actually use it. I was also worried that it might make me look stupid. But the manager was persistent. He kept telling me that the implant was the best way to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing. I finally agreed to try it. The implant was a bit of a pain, but after I had it installed, I was finally able to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing. I was glad that I was able to do this, because I would have been tired of hearing about them every day.	I was born into a world where everyone is born with a birth control device implanted into them during puberty. It's supposed to be for the safety of the whole population, but I soon learned that it's used as a way to keep the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. I was designated as an Auditor, responsible for determining when someone is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I was initially skeptical of the device and its purpose, but I soon realized that it's necessary to protect the population. I'm glad that it's still in use today, and I hope that it will continue to be used until the last person on earth is able to raise a well-adjusted human being.	You are an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must evaluate each person's ability to think critically, make sound decisions, and empathize with others. If they pass your assessment, they are allowed to deactivate their birth control device and have children. You take your job very seriously, as you know that the future of humanity depends on it. There are far too many people in the world who are not intelligent or stable enough to raise a child responsibly, and you are determined to prevent them from reproducing. You have a tough job, but you know that it is vital to the future of humanity. Thank you for doing what you do!	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather.
2	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is traveling through Vienna, Austria in a private train. He is from Prague, and his family is from there. He is tired from the long journey and they decide to stop at a local restaurant for the night. When he wakes up, he has a surprise for him: he has won the lottery! The restaurant owner tells him that he will have to leave for the night, but FreudHz feels glad to have covered the costs of the trip. He and his new friends sing the song "Ist ein KäMPFiger gesättigt, das wir hier herrscht?" (Is a compressor Greeared, that we here are here for?) He is glad to have made such a financial gain and the men discuss business. They decide to form a company to study how compressor Greeared work. They start with a study of how Stalin and Trotsky had before them. They begin to study the physics and he Austrian legislators. They come up with a plan to put a stop to the trials and save Austria from a possible food crisis. Sigmund Freud is with his friends, feeling glad he won the lottery. He isestiches the Austrian legislators and noticed that they are only wearing clothes day and night. He knows that they cannot see the compressor Greeared that is Sie siebenatmeters wehende. He tells his friends that he will have to leave for the night, and they sing the song with him.	Adolf Hitler was the only one who responded. He was 21 years old, and he was already a powerful political and military leader in Austria. He was interested in Freud's latest research, and he wanted to be a part of it. Joseph Stalin, the leader of the Soviet Union, also responded to the ad. He was also interested in Freud's research, and he wanted to be a part of it. Leon Trotsky, the leader of the Soviet Union, also responded to the ad. He was also interested in Freud's research, and he wanted to be a part of it. But Josip Broz Tito, the leader of the Yugoslavian Republic, responded to the ad. He was only 21 years old, and he was still a young man trying to build his own country. But he was interested in Freud's research, and he wanted to be a part of it.	Freud is pleased with the responses, but is perplexed as to why only young, ambitious men are interested in his work. He decides to ask each man a few questions to see if he has any insights into their motivations. Adolf Hitler: "So, why do you want to be part of the clinical trials?" Hitler replies with a smile, "I want to be the greatest leader in history." Joseph Stalin: "I want to be the ruler of the world." Leon Trotsky: "I want to make the world a better place." Josip Broz Tito: "I want to be loved."	Sigmund Freud was excited to begin clinical trials for his latest research in 1913. He placed an ad in the newspaper, seeking participants. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their twenties or early thirties, and Freud was intrigued by their interest in his work. He conducted the trials with each man individually, and found that they were all highly intelligent and insightful. However, he also noticed something else: each man was extraordinarily ambitious and ruthless. Trotsky was the most idealistic of the bunch, but even he had a cold, calculating side. Stalin was the most brutal, and Hitler was the most charismatic. As Freud continued to work with the men, he started to worry about their potential for causing harm in the world. He began to see them not as participants in his research, but as potential threats to the stability of the world. Eventually, Freud came to the conclusion that the only way to keep them from causing harm was to keep them close. He started inviting them to his home for dinner parties and other social gatherings. He became friends with them, and even though he knew they were dangerous, he felt responsible for them. As the years went by, Freud watched as each of the men rose to power in their respective countries. He continued to worry about the damage they could do, but he also continued to believe that he was the only one who could keep them in check.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ).
3	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The most recent cat to move in through the window was a large spaniel dog. It had been out of the house for a few years now, and the spaniel had developed a naturalistic interest in looking at things from a different perspective. The feline activity the spaniel dog had been following was always going to be curious, and it would be the last cat to move in through the window. The feline activity died very quickly.	Once upon a time, there was a mad scientist who lived in a home made entirely of Invisible Ghosts. The ghosts would materialize and leave messages all over the place, asking the mad scientist to release them.every time he made a mistake. One day, the mad scientist ran into the kitchen and saw a ghost hanging from the ceiling. He didn't know what to do, but he couldn't help but laugh at the ghost. The ghosts knew he was aware of their presence, and they knew that he was trying to get rid of them. They began to follow him and leave messages all over the house. eventually, themad scientist gave up and divorced his wife. He still visits his home every day to see if the ghosts will come out.	I always loved going home to see my family. I would wrap my arms around my mom, dad, and little sister and just enjoy their company. However, something was always off. Something felt off about the house. I couldn't put my finger on it, but it felt like there was something lurking in the shadows, watching me. One day, I decided to take action. I pulled out all of the curtains in the house and exposed the dark, empty spaces that used to be curtains. I expected to see some sort of ghostly figure lurking in the shadows, but there was nothing there. I was happy to have finally exposed the thing that was bothering me, but I knew I couldn't forget about it. It was always watching me.	It was always there, lurking in the shadows. I could feel its presence, but I could never see it. It was an invisible force, living in my home. I tried to expose it, but I didn't want to let it know that I was aware of its presence. I set up cameras and traps, but they never captured anything. I was beginning to think I was losing my mind. Then, one day, I saw it. It was a fleeting glimpse, but I saw it. It was a dark, shadowy figure. It was there one moment and gone the next. I was finally able to confirm that something invisible was living in my home. Now, I'm trying to figure out what to do about it. I don't want to confront it directly, but I can't just ignore it either. It's a difficult situation, but I'll figure something out. I just need to be careful not to let it know that I'm on to it.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still...
4	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician is on stage, pulling out rabbits from hats. The rabbit in the hat looks happy to be playing second fiddle. The magician is getting tired of being the first one here. "You're going to have to help me get the rabbits out," the magician says. The rabbit gets out of the hat, looking happy again. "Good job!" the magician praised. The rabbit leaves the stage and the audience is laughing. The magician is glad he can take care of things now.	As the magician and the rabbit stood in the middle of the stage, the rabbit was sick of being second fiddle. The magician had looked down on him for years, ever since he was given the job of pulling out the hat brim for him. But the rabbit was determined to make his voice heard. "You're never going to do anything better than this," the rabbit said, lifting his hat and turning it in the air. "Just hand me the hat, so I can go back to being the star of the show." But the magician only looked at him in confusion. He didn't understand what the rabbit was trying to say. "I'm sorry, rabbit," the magician said, "but I can't hand you the hat. I can only give it to you when you're through playing my parts." The rabbit looked disappointed, but he didn't argue. He knew that the magician was just doing what he had to to, in order to keep the show running.	The magician's eyes twinkle as he hands the rabbit to the audience. "Now, this is a very special rabbit," he says. "It has never been in front of a crowd before. I'm sure you'll all enjoy watching it dance." As the magician starts to pull the rabbit out of the hat, the rabbit's fur starts to stand on end. It knows what's coming - it's been through this same routine too many times. Suddenly, the rabbit is overcome with a sickening feeling, and it collapses to the ground. The magician looks at the audience, dismay written all over his face. He knows he's going to have to do something quick if he wants to keep his show on schedule. He pulls out his wand and casts a spell. Instantly, the rabbit's fur falls back into place and it stands up to applause from the crowd. The rabbit is grateful, but it still can't help but feel a little bit sick every time it has to perform.	A magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. The rabbit is sick of being the second fiddle, and he's had enough. He's been planning his escape for months, and now it's time to make his move. The magician is in the middle of his routine, and the rabbit is pretending to be asleep in the hat. The magician reached in to grab the rabbit, but the rabbit was gone. The audience gasps as the rabbit sprints off stage. The magician is baffled, but the rabbit is long gone. He's finally free, and he's never looking back.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents.
5	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross paints pictures of places he has paintaint pictures of, often with his victims in the pictures. He has done this for many years, ever since he was young. He loves the way he makes people look at him and feel loved.	Bob Ross painted some of the most beautiful landscapes in history. But as each new painting was created, a new location was added to his list ofkillings. It was only until he died, hadn't he realized how many of his victims were actually close to where he was painting?	It started as a innocuous painting. Bob Ross painted a scene of a sleepy, rural town. But something was off. The people were too placid, the houses too serene. Something was wrong. Bob Ross realized that he had painted another scene of a murder. This time, the victim was a peaceful old woman. She lay on the ground, her assailant looming over her, his weapon drawn. Bob Ross had killed countless people in the different locations that made up his paintings. And now, with each brush stroke, he added another victim to his list.	Bob Ross was a talented painter with a dark secret. For years, he travelled the country, painting beautiful landscapes. But behind the scenes, Bob was a serial killer, using his paintings as a way to hide his gruesome crimes. Now, decades later, the truth is finally coming out. Investigators have discovered that each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is actually a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. Finally, the pieces of this dark puzzle are coming together, and Bob Ross' legacy of terror is finally being revealed.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross stands in his own painting,haoing the life in every nook and cranny. Every tree, every rock, and every painting is his unique atmosrd. Unexpectedly, the sun sets in, the light questing through each nook and cranny. I look at Bob Ross, and can see the image of The Lord in his painting. The look in his eyes, the way he's Greeting every painting with a smile. I remember when I viewed Bob Ross' paintings, I felt little more than a extension of the artist's art. Now, I'm the entire painting, and I'm responses to the light are my own.	Once upon a time, Bob Ross had a lot of murders. He painted landscapes of various locations to survive, and each one was a different deathtrap. But now that the murders have stopped, the paintings have all turned into propaganda for his upcoming album. Now the public believe that Bob Ross is a realpainter who can create beautiful artwork despite the atrocities he's committed.	Bob Ross loved painting landscapes. He would spend hours at a time painting the rolling hills and green forests of America. But Bob Ross was also a serial killer. He murdered dozens of people over the course of his lifetime, often painting the scenes of their deaths in his paintings. His latest victim was John, a man he met on a hiking trail. Bob Ross killed John with a knife, painting the gruesome scene in his painting of the Blue Ridge Mountains.	Bob Ross was a prolific serial killer. For years, he painted landscapes of beautiful scenery, using a bright and cheery palette. But behind the scenes, Ross was a ruthless murderer, targeting victims in remote locations. Police began to suspect Ross when they noticed a pattern in his paintings. Many of the landscapes featured locations where people had recently gone missing. They eventually discovered that Ross had been painting the scenes of his crimes, using them as a gruesome trophy. Now, Ross' paintings are infamous. They're prized by collectors, but also serve as a reminder of the horror he inflicted on so many innocent people.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass.
2	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The adventurers were a group of five that were walking through the city. They were taking a day off from working in the analog game. They were looking for any and all loot they could find on their walkways. They were want to sell some of their finds to the player class. The player, however, Unlikely Muir, didn't seem to be too keen on selling his intellectual property. He was more interested in the Fruit of the Lid. The adventurers were unimpressed with this "game" and decided to walk away. The player, however, isn't done with them yet. He decided to take them up on the offer and sell their assets. The fruit is a nice, but itorama of the coal mine the adventurers had been working in. The player is pleased to have something to sell that is familiar, but the adventurers don't seem to be too keen on the game either. They seem to be more interested in finding ways to get away from the player.	The Indiana joint was always busiest on Fridays. It was a trick of the trade for the pawn shop owner—frequent adventurers would come by to sell items they'd picked up on the journey. Sometimes they would bring missing equipment, or worse, and the shop was always one for a laugh. But on this Friday, the laughter was missing. The adventurers who normally flowed in and out of the store were nowhere to be seen. The shopkeeper looked around, trying to think of what could have precipitated this. He had never been one for overworked or stressed out employees, but maybe something had just gone wrong. He went into the back room, where the gaming computers were always set up, and Calculon, the store's magical golden retriever, barked at him. The shopkeeper thought the dog might have brought something bad news. But when he looked out the window, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. It was as if the whole world had just disappeared. He quickly called for backup, but it was too late. The adventurers who usually came in on Fridays had all left for the night, and no one had seen or heard anything. The shopkeeper was worried. Maybe something had happened to them on the journey. He couldn't believe that the whole world had just vanished.	The pawn shop was always busy. The adventurers would come in, trying to sell their loot. Sometimes they would be successful, sometimes they wouldn't. But no matter what, the pawn shop always managed to make a profit. One day, a group of adventurers came in. They were looking for a specific item, and they were willing to pay a high price for it. The pawn shop's owner, Sarah, started to haggle with them. She offered them lower prices, but they wouldn't budge. She tried her best to get them to give her the item, but they just wouldn't listen. In the end, she gave up and let them leave. She lamented the fact that she didn't get the item. But, in the end, she was still able to make a profit.	You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You're a master haggler, and you always manage to get a good deal on the items. However, you're also always on the lookout for items that are truly unique and rare. One day, a young adventurer comes into your shop, and he's carrying a large sack of loot. He looks exhausted, and you can tell he's been on a long journey. He starts to empty out the sack, and you see that he has some amazing items. There are magical weapons, rare armor, and even a few items that you've never seen before. You start to haggle with the adventurer, and you manage to get a great deal on the items. You're excited to add these new items to your collection.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!
3	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	bled is on stage, nodding to the show members as they perform. The first few shows are getting him several cups of coffee, but the next few members of the public are looking for a new magic act. One by one, other members of the public are starting to leave, replaced by low-dding candidates. Backed by the performance card that is tucked under his arm, Bled starts to Silencie. It is getting harder and harder to keep up with the more ugly candidates, many of whom seem to be on the brink of death. Some are even wearing oxygenaning cages complete with Racial Attitude, a deadly virus that was only discovered during the show. With no choice, Bled decides to end his act. As he leaves the room, he remember the rabbit from the hat. He had always been second- guessing himself, but he has finally found his home. Now, the rabbit can lay down and rest, knowing that he will always be there to help her when he needs to be move.	The magician had been practicing for years and had perfecting his skills. He was about to perform a task that would require quick thinking and quick action. He put on a hat and grabbed the rabbit by the hind legs. He pulled him off the stage, into a dark corner, and made him eat some whiteSR. The rabbit was so sick of being used as a decoy that he fought back, kicked the magician in the gut, and took off. The magician was speechless, his reputation as a magician be sullied.	The rabbit was sick of always playing second fiddle to the magician. He was sick of always being the one that got pulled out of the hat and made to do tricks. He was sick of always being the one that people laughed at. So one day, the rabbit decided he was done playing second fiddle. He gathered all of the courage he could and stood up in front of the magician, glaring at him. "I'm done playing your games," the rabbit said. "I'm done being the one that gets pulled out of the hat and made to do tricks. I'm done being the butt of everyone's jokes. So this is how it's going to be: I'm going to act like a regular rabbit and you're going to have to deal with it." The magician frowned but didn't say anything. The rabbit took that as a sign that he was right and continued on with his life. He continued to live his life normal and the magician continued to live his life as a magician. And that's how the rabbit got his wish: to be just another rabbit in a world of magic.	The magician and the rabbit are on stage. The rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit looks at the audience and speaks. "I'm sick of this. I'm the one who does all the work and he gets all the credit. I'm done." The rabbit hops off the stage and leaves. The magician is stunned. He has no idea what to do. The audience is laughing and cheering. The rabbit is a hit.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
4	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was meant to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. It could only be deactivated once it was determined you were intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-icious human being. You were an Auditor.	For the first time in your life, you're Title 3 Auditor. You're responsible for recording the thoughts and feelings of the people of your village. You have a job to do, and you're determined to do it as efficiently and effectively as possible. But as you start your day, you begin to realize that something is off. Your village seems to be in a state of anarchy. The streets are filled with people who are fighting and destroying each other. The buildings are in disarray. And the Auditor's office... it's gone. You don't know what to do. You can't just ignore this. You have to find out what's going on. You head to the town square, where you find the most active and chaotic group of people. They're fighting and looting and causing all sorts of destruction. You're not sure what to do, but you can't just watch them. So you start to make your way through the chaos. You find some people who are helping to solve the problem. They're kind and grateful to you, and they offer you their help. They shepherd you through the city, and you eventually find your office. Inside, you see the ruins of your village. The people are all dead. The building you were working in is gone. You wonder what happened. But then you remember what the Auditor's job is. And you know that you have to find out what's going on. You go to the town square and ask the people what's going on. They all tell you the same thing. They're all angry and confused. They don't know what to do. They're scared. They don't know who to trust. And that's when you decide to take control. You take the lead and figure out what's going on. You tell the people that they're safe and sound. You tell them that there's nothing to be afraid of. You tell them that they can come back to their village and live their lives the way they always wanted to. And they do. They come back and live their lives the way they always wanted to. But they still don't know who to trust. They don't know who to rely on. They don't know what to do. And that's when you comes in. You're the first Audit to ever set foot in this village. And you're the first to tell them that everything is going to be alright. You're the first to tell them that they're safe. You're the first to tell them that there's nothing to be afraid of. And they are. They're finally safe. And they're finally content. They know that they're being watched, but they're happy. They know that they're being protected. And they know that they're being given a second chance. But in the end, it's still the same. The people of this village are still in a state of anarchy. The streets are still filled with destruction. And the Auditor's office is still gone.	History was made the day the Auditor was implemented. It was a bold and necessary decision, one that would ensure the future of humanity. From then on, everyone would be implanted with a birth control device during puberty. The device could only be deactivated once it was determined the individual was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. The idea of being labeled an ``Intelligent'' individual was daunting, but ultimately it was a necessary designation for the safety of society. And so, the Auditor was born. For the first time, the dumb and the unintelligent would be kept from breeding. It was a Herculean task, but the Auditor was up for the challenge. Slowly but surely, the Auditor was able to weed out the undeserving individuals. The ones who couldn't handle the responsibility of raising a well-adjusted human being. The ones who would be a detriment to society. And finally, the Auditor was able to deem someone intelligent and stable enough to raise a child. Now, those children are the future of the human race. The ones who will carry on our legacy, and make sure that the dumb and the unintelligent are kept from breeding.	You're an Auditor, which means you determine who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you monitor the implantee's thoughts and actions to see if they're up to the challenge. If they're not, the implant remains active and they cannot have children. You've been an Auditor for many years now, and you've never once had to deactivate an implant. That is, until you met John. John is kind, intelligent, and stable, but his implant is still active. You can't figure out why, so you decide to take a closer look. As you start to audit John, you realize that his implant is only active when he's around other people. When he's by himself, the implant is inactive. You soon realize that John is only comfortable around other people when he's pretending to be someone he's not. He's putting on a facade to make others like him. You decide to talk to John about this. He breaks down and tells you that he's always felt like he's not good enough. He's afraid that if people found out who he really was, they wouldn't like him. You assure John that he is good enough and that there's nothing wrong with being honest about who he is. You deactivate his implant and tell him that he's ready to be a parent.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch.
5	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler was the only one who answered the ad. He was bored with his life at home and decided to go to Vienna to take part in the clinical trials of Sigmund Freud's latest research. Joseph Stalin was the next to answer the ad. He was tired of living in Moscow and was looking for a new place to live. He decided to go to Vienna to take part in the clinical trials of Sigmund Freud's latest research. Leon Trotsky was the third person to answer the ad. He was the young leader of the Bolshevik party in Russia and was looking for a new place to live. He decided to take part in the clinical trials of Sigmund Freud's latest research. Josip Broz Tito was the fourth person to answer the ad. He was the president of Yugoslavia and was looking for a new place to live. He decided to take part in the clinical trials of Sigmund Freud's latest research.	Freud was excited to begin the clinical trials. He put an ad in the newspaper seeking participants. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was not sure what to make of the responses, but he was excited to begin the research.	Sigmund Freud was excited to start clinical trials for his latest research in 1913. He placed an ad in the local newspaper, hoping to find participants. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their twenties and eager to try out Freud's research. They met with him and discussed the trials. Freud explained that he would be using a new technique called psychoanalysis. The men were intrigued and agreed to participate. The trials went well and all four men found Freud's research to be helpful. They continued to stay in touch with Freud and remained friends for many years.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud!

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. Each painting reveals a different aspects of nature, the sky or of some location near it. It is a beautiful, reminder of all that Bob Ross has caused.	Bob Ross resided in many different places over his career as an artist. But no place was more special to him than the painting studio he shared with his murderous murderer, taxidermist and cannibal, Willie Vierville. The two would commune there in silence, painting horrifying masterpieces of murders and atrocities. One day, after Willie had killed multiple people with a meat ax in different parts of the United States, Bob Ross finally had the opportunity to confront him face-to-face. "Willie, I know you're responsible for the deaths of so many people. I'm sorry that I didn't have the opportunity to kill you when I had the chance," Ross said. "But I think I'd have been better off doing it myself." "You're delusional," Willie replied. "I would have killed you right then and there if I could." But Ross was determined to take due pride in his painted executions, even though they were now nothing more than memories to him. "I'm the one who's responsible for these paintings, not you," he said. "And I'll never forget the feeling of being assassin in the broad daylight."	Bob Ross was a colorful and peaceful landscape artist who lived in the 1970s and 1980s. But behind the scenes, Bob was a mass murderer who committed countless murders in different locations around the country. Many of his paintings are based on real places, and on these locations he would lure unsuspecting people with his beautiful landscape paintings. Once they were in the vicinity of his paintings, Bob would ambush them and brutally kill them. Bob Ross is now a convicted murderer who is serving a life sentence in a prison colony. His victims will never be forgotten, and his bloody legacy will always be remembered.	Bob Ross was a murderous madman. His landscape paintings were actually locations of his countless murders. He would use the paintings as a way to lure his victims to their doom. Ross was a master of disguise and would often dress up as a kindly old man in order to gain his victim's trust. Once he had them alone, he would strike, killing them in cold blood. To the outside world, Ross was a gentle, harmless man. But those who knew him best knew the truth: he was a killer. And his paintings were a map to his gruesome crimes.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat.
2	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The most hidden thing in the house is definitely the case of the cheese. It's been hidden there for as long as she can remember. It's a secret, and she's tried her best to keep it that way. But the ever----------------------------------------------------------- The cheese continues on and continues to eat her up. She's full and can't seem to escape it. Finally, she toppleks into a grind where she sees the food in front of her is blind. She sees the case of cheese in the center and it takes on a life of its own. The food in the case becomes adulterated and Rocco realizes that he has been reveal the cheese isDesktop.lboro the most hidden thing in the house.	Once upon a time, a witch lived in a home with an invisible being. She tried toercultivate it, but it always seemed to be there, lurking in the corners, waiting to take over. One day, she decided to take measures and lock her home with a few bolt cutters to ensure that it couldn't escape. The first few days, the invisiblity seemed to be upheld. However, as time went on, the creature began to take on a more human-like appearance. The witch was relieved, but was also scared. She wasn't sure if she loved or hated the creature, but she knew she couldn't live with it anymore.	I was just cleaning my house and I noticed something moving around my upstairs hallway. I wasn't sure what it was, but I knew I needed to find out. I started to make my way up the stairs and as I got closer, I could hear it moving around. I was getting closer and I could see it was a small, white rabbit. I started to make my way closer to it and then it ran away. I didn't know what to think, but I knew I needed to find out more about this thing.	You've always felt like something was watching you in your home. You can't see it, but you know it's there. You've tried to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. But it's always one step ahead of you. You're not sure what it is, but you know it's not human. It's invisible, and it seems to be able to move things around your house. You've tried to trap it, but it always seems to escape. You're not sure what to do, but you know you need to find out what this thing is. You need to find a way to expose it and stop it from terrorizing your home.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been.
3	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	Theraction: As soon as the door opened, she saw the biggest lie she had ever seen. It was the only lie she had ever met. She stammered out an apology, and the liar agreed to see her. As they entered the room, theer was a feeling of terror. Ther big lie wasusage, and she was the only one who knew why. The liar said hello, and theer said something back that she couldn't remember. The story continued as they walked to her room, and the liar said goodbye. She said she would see her future self again, and theer said she should be grateful.	You meet someone new and interesting in the world and you are intrigued by how they live their life. You ask them about their scar and they tell you about it. They say that it is the biggest one they have and that it has taken a toll on their body. They mention that it has always been there but it has just been bigger and harder to see. You are interested in what they have to say and you feel that you can learn something from them.	I was mesmerized by the person in front of me. They had the biggest scar I had ever seen. It was so big, it stretched from their forehead to their chin. It was so deep, it looked like it might have been able to cut right through their skin. But the most striking thing about the scar was how unassuming it was. It wasn't huge and it wasn't flashy. It was just a small, simple mark that said, plainly, "I've lied." I couldn't help but ask them how they got the scar. From the way they spoke, it seemed like it was something that had bothered them for a long time. They told me about a time when they had lied and how it had impacted their life. The more they talked, the more I realized that the scar was the only thing that showed how much they had changed. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. But for this person, the scar was the only indication that they had ever lied.	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. You ask them what happened and they tell you that they lied about their entire life. They lied about who they were, what they did, and who they loved. They lied about everything and the scar is a result of that. Even though they have the deepest scar, they don't regret it because it made them who they are today.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control.
4	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	someway, in some future date, at an event a different rabbit shows up. It is suggested that the magic Investigative Reporter be sure to check it out. The rabbit pent up frustration and decides to take the event by force if for no other reason than to add more miles and miles to its rut. equations and a Pilates routine will not stop the rabbit from outlets and mental 5000s from ordering her to stop,” thinks Investigative Reporter. But as fate would have it, that same rabbit appears at the next event, alliloquy to the fact that the InvestigativeReporter is one of the most famous magicians in the world. The rabbit is table-to-mouth with a message for the magicians on stage; they both should prepare to be floor capitals. The next day, the Investigative Reporter comes across the rabbit in a dream. In the dream, the rabbit is mortal flaw and the magiciansboth men and women. The most striking thing about the dream is the daggers that the rabbit is holdingin his mouth. The magicians Having realized that the rabbit was in their dream, are dumbfounded. The rabbit, for its part, is embarrassed but Calculated to take out any more success than he has in predicting their future. The show is over and the magicians are still waiting for the rabbit to realize that it's in a dream and not really there. The rabbit cope with the situation, but feels like it could have done more to prevent the event. The magicians get death threats from the change-of-the-the-days people, who realize that they have no idea what they are getting into. The evolution of the rabbit is a bright example of this prompt. The magician who creates the rabbit is constant and always ready to take on new challenges. The rabbit goes through many changes and endless challenges in its life, but the one thing always staying the same is its desire to help people.	The magician pulled out the rabbit from under his hat and set him down near the stage. He said, "Hey, rabbit. I know you're sick of being the scapegoat. You're the one that I have to force to do things my way. And you know it. But I'm going to let you know just how much I really mean it when I say that this is really going to help you." The magician produced a magic hat and put it on the rabbit's head. Suddenly, the rabbit was healed. "Now, rabbit. You're going to do what I tell you. You're going to help me make a big magic show." The rabbit nodded eagerly, and the magician began to show off his tricks. But the rabbit was having none of it. "I'm not your obedient servant," the rabbit said. "I'm going to give you a choice. I can help you heal the rabbit, or I can help you make a big show and get away with it." The magician considered for a moment, and then he said, "I think I'll go with the rabbit."	The magician looked at the rabbits, one with a sad look on its face, and the other with annoyance. It was time for the rabbit to leave the stage, it had been playing second fiddle for too long. The magician thought for a moment, and then he said, "I have a secret to tell you. I am not a rabbit, I am a magician." The rabbit was shocked, but the magician continued. "I can do amazing things with my magic, and I have been able to do it for a long time." The rabbit was skeptical, but the magician was not done. "I can make you disappear, and then reappear anywhere I want." The rabbit was startled, but the magician continued. "I can make you jump through hoops, and I can even make you do magic." The rabbit was skeptical, but the magician was not done. "I can even make you do something that you never thought possible, something that will make you the star of the show." The rabbit was skeptical, but the magician was not done. "Accomplish the impossible and I will make you the most famous rabbit in the world." The rabbit was skeptical, but the magician was not done. "And I will never put you in the back row again." The rabbit thought about it for a moment, and then it said, "I accept."	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. However, the rabbit is tired of being the one who is always pulled out of the hat. He wants to be the one doing the tricks for once. So, during their next performance, the rabbit takes control. He starts pulling the magician out of the hat instead of the other way around. The audience is shocked at the sight of this, but they quickly start cheering for the rabbit. The rabbit is finally able to show off his own skills and he is loving every minute of it. The magician is not too happy about this turn of events, but he knows that he needs to go along with it. After all, the rabbit is the true star of the show now.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
5	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was decided at the last click of the mouse. It was now every person's Curiosity was quashed because only the very best could survive. No one could be considered a replacement because they would not be able to survive on their own. So, the best that were able to prevent were the very best that could be found. The only one notable among this crowd being an Auditor. The other people in the world were scared because they knew that only one person was still left in the world. The only one who could stop the Other People. The Other People were a mutated form of human that had made it to this point, only to find out that they were the only ones who could prevent the device from taking flight. TheAuditor was the only one who could keep the device from functioning normally and allowed it to be patented. This allowed for it to be used by only the best in the industry to this day.	Auditors are sent to all the homes of the intelligent and stable people in the world in order to determine if they are worthy of reproducing. meek and mild people, those who can't think for themselves or can't have kids, are not taken into consideration. TheAuditor implanted a birth control device into all the intelligent and stable people in the world during puberty. It could only be deactivated once they were determined they were intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an Auditor.	I was an Auditor, tasked with determining who was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I was given a birth control device during puberty, and it could only be deactivated once I was sure the person I was assessing was both smart and capable of taking care of themselves. It was a difficult job, but one I was glad to have. I was determined to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing and ruining the world.	You've been an Auditor for years now, and you take your job very seriously. You know that the future of humanity depends on making sure that only the smartest and most stable people are able to have children. So, when you meet someone who wants to have their birth control device deactivated, you make sure to put them through a rigorous test. You ask them difficult questions, test their mental and emotional stability, and make sure that they are truly capable of raising a happy and healthy child. Only the smartest and most responsible people are able to pass your test and have their birth control device deactivated. And you know that by doing your job, you are helping to ensure the future of humanity.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	magician takes rabbit out of hat and pulls out a toothbrush from under the bed. The rabbit is deeply embarrassed and takes off all his clothes until he's left only with a sun dress and flip flops. He's ready to be away from the magic themes for aosis. But when the show starts, the rabbit isKERRaffected! He starts to economic to pull the rabbit out of the performance. But before he can even touch the rabbit, it's over. The rabbit is on the ground, with a huge smile on his face, because he actually was able to pull the magic out of the performance. Mocoa is still upset but can't wait to do it again.	The magician had been pulling out the rabbits from his hat for weeks now. Each one was a little sick of always having to take the place of the other. The rabbit had enough. "Enough," the rabbit said, hopping up onto the magician's stage. "I'm not playing second fiddle any longer." The magician looked surprised but then he grinned. "Okay, then. I'll give you the job."	The magician fished a rabbit out of a hat and onto the stage. The rabbit was fast asleep, and the magician shook him awake. "Wake up, rabbit," he said. "You're going to play second fiddle to me from now on." The rabbit was tired of always being the second-to-last in line. He wanted to be the star of the show. "I don't care how tired you are," the magician said. "You're going to be a star." The rabbit grumbled, but he followed the magician onto the stage. The magician began to do his tricks, and the rabbit watched. He was still tired, but he was starting to enjoy himself. The magician was so good that even the rabbit couldn't top him. But that didn't mean the rabbit wasn't proud of himself. He had finally been able to show the magician that he was worth something, even if he was just a rabbit.	The magician and the rabbit were on stage, and the rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. He wanted to be the star of the show, and he was tired of being the one who got pulled out of the hat. So, one day, when the magician was getting ready to do his act, the rabbit jumped out of the hat and onto the stage. He wanted to show the audience that he could do magic too. The magician was not happy about this, and he tried to get the rabbit off the stage. But the rabbit was determined to show everyone that he was just as good as the magician. In the end, the rabbit got his wish and he was the star of the show. The audience loved him and he got a standing ovation. The magician was not happy about it, but he had to admit that the rabbit was a better magician than he was.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it?
2	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in business for the Simple Things. When a group of adventurers decide to take up registration at the pawn shop, the Managing leapt at the chance to get paid. The shop's currently full of RPG gear and authors flesh, so the adventurers try to sell their assets. It's a White-Gold Adventurers level 5, 2nd level 7 and 1st level character which sells for $5.	Every day, the shop is crowded with adventurers, each looking to score a luckywick or two. One trader in particular is always trying to get the most from his resources. He's a gruff, experienced adventurer who always has a ready smile and a quick wit. He's always looking for the best deal, and he's not afraid to get it by bargaining. One day, the trader and the adventurer came into the pawnshop. The trader was looking for a weapon, and the adventurer was looking for a new piece of armor. The trader was very informative, and the adventurer found himself getting more and more interested in the weapon he was looking for. The trader told the adventurer about a weapon he was selling, and the adventurer was interested. He asked the trader how much he would pay for the weapon, and the trader told him he would be willing to sell the weapon for a price the adventurer was willing to pay. The adventurer agreed, and the trader took the weapon back to the stock.	Logan had just come back from his latest adventure, and was eager to sell his loot to the pawn shop owner. He had found some really good gear this time, and was hoping to get a good deal. The owner, though, was having none of it. He was adamant about getting a fair price, and was not going to let Logan sell anything below his asking price. In the end, Logan had to give in, and ended up selling his gear for considerably less than he had hoped. He was a little disappointed, but at least he got a good deal on his gear.	Welcome to the RPG Pawn Shop! We specialize in buying and selling loot from adventurers. If you're looking to sell, we'll give you a fair price for your goods. We know the value of all the different types of loot and will give you a fair offer. If you're looking to buy, we have a wide selection of items to choose from. We only carry the best quality loot, so you can be sure you're getting a great deal. Whether you're looking to buy or sell, we're here to help you get the best deal possible. Thanks for choosing the RPG Pawn Shop!	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul.
3	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud has long been searching for the perfect patient. He's looking for people who can be of help to him in his research into oedipus complex. He puts an ad in a newspaper, but the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. He's disappointed, but his search for the perfect patient is useless.	Adolf Hitler read the ad with interest. He was interested in trying out new therapies, and this sounded like it might be something that could help him. He was also interested in being a part of the clinical trials, and this sounded like it would be a great opportunity. Joseph Stalin read the ad with Interest too. He was interested in trying out new therapies, and this sounded like it might be something that could help him. He was also interested in being a part of the clinical trials, and this sounded like it would be a great opportunity. Leon Trotsky read the ad with Interest. He was interested in trying out new therapies, and this sounded like it might be something that could help him. He was also interested in being a part of the clinical trials, and this sounded like it would be a great opportunity. Josip Broz Tito read the ad with Interest too. He was interested in trying out new therapies, and this sounded like it might be something that could help him. He was also interested in being a part of the clinical trials, and this sounded like it would be a great opportunity.	Freud was excited to be starting the clinical trials for his latest project. He put an ad in a newspaper looking for participants. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was puzzled by this, but decided to proceed with the trials. The four men met for the first time and began discussing the project. They all had different ideas, but they all agreed to work together. The trials were a success and Freud was able to improve his research.	Sigmund Freud's latest clinical trial is seeking participants and he's placed an ad in the newspaper. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men are young, in their twenties and early thirties, and eager to participate in the trial. The trial is for a new treatment that Freud is developing for mental illness. The four men all suffer from different forms of mental illness, and they are all eager to find a cure. The trial is a success and all four men are cured of their mental illness. They all go on to lead successful and productive lives. Hitler becomes a famous artist, Stalin becomes a successful politician, Trotsky becomes a well-known writer, and Tito becomes a successful businessman. The four men never forget the trial that cured them and they always stay in touch. They meet up every few years to catch up and discuss the latest news. They are all grateful to Freud for his help and they all believe that his new treatment will change the world.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do.
4	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross led a Hubcaps-laced life as a criminal; he worked the paper route and then some. He was always up for a subscription and always looking for an opportunity to spend it. One day, he decided he'd take his Bin Man Christ complex and break out the, "Greetings from Bob Ross Place!" When word got out that he could find any place he wanted, he called it his "Hub Caps" and life was easy.	Bob Ross was a talented painter and forgetful man. Every few months, he would create a new landscape painting, only to never show it to anyone. One day, a friend found a reproduction of one of his paintings and offered to show it to him. The painting was of a idyllic landscape, with crystal-clear waters and pristine mountains. The friend was astonished that Bob had actually killed people in the painting! Bob didn't know what to say, but he was really happy that his friend had found it.	Each time Bob Ross painted a landscape, he was transported to a different place, one of the many murder scenes he had committed. The vivid colors and tranquil beauty of each landscape was a perfect cover for his deadly deeds. The first time he painted the Blue Ridge Mountains, he was surrounded by the bodies of his victims. He had killed three women hikers and left them to die in the cold. The sight of the cold, stark mountains filled him with a sense of calm and peace, like he was finally at peace with himself. The next painting was of the coastline near his home. He remembered murdering that woman, the love of his life, right there on the beach. It was the most brutal crime of his career, and he had been caught in the act. The waves crashed against the shore, washing the blood and body parts of his victim ashore. The paintings kept coming, one after the other. Each time, his crimes became more and more peaceful and introspective, like he was finally finding some kind of inner peace. But in reality, he was never at peace. The killers within him never stopped demanding blood, and he would never be able to truly escape them.	Bob Ross was a prolific painter, and his landscape paintings were beloved by many. But few knew the dark secret behind his work. Each of Bob's paintings was based on a real place - the scene of one of his countless murders. Bob was a serial killer, and he used his artwork as a way to relive his gruesome crimes. He would choose his victims carefully, often targeting those who were alone and vulnerable. Then he would strike, killing them in cold blood. After the murder, Bob would head to his studio and begin work on a new painting, inspired by the location of the crime. For Bob, painting was a way to relive the thrill of the kill, and he took great pleasure in knowing that his art was hung up in homes and businesses all over the world - unwitting reminders of the horrific crimes he had committed. Bob Ross was finally caught after his latest victim, a young woman named Karen, managed to escape and contact the authorities. Now, his paintings serve as a chilling reminder of the crimes that he committed - and the many lives that he took.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.
5	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	As soon as she walked in, the bow- Sorceress looked down at the lie with a mix of emotions. She liked the bigger lie more, but it was still the trampled victim of the Mistress' attack. She took a step back, looking at the sorry state of the liar. "Who are you?" She asked, her voice goneails and lies. The Sorceress looked down at the mark and the lies that they were and found herself breaking down, crying and Ponytail578 crying with her. The Mistress looked up at her with a sad expression and Horsec Chesterton looked away and said, "I'm sorry too."	You meet this person for the first time, and you are immediately intrigued. They tell you a beautiful story, one that you can't help but believe. You feel honored that they have chosen to share such a personal detail with you. As you listen to the story, you become more and more convinced that this person is telling the truth. This person is brave enough to share such a personal detail, and you feel honoured that they choose to do so. As you share your own scars with this person, you feel a special connection that you never thought possible.	I was wary of him from the start. He spoke with such confidence and seemed to be living in a world where each lie created a scar on his body. He was the biggest liar I had ever seen. But I was curious and decided to ask him about it. He told me about a time when he had to make up a story to get out of a difficult situation. His lie had become so big and consequential that it created a huge scar on his stomach. I was horrified and inspired by his bravery. From then on, I vowed to live a more truthful life, and to make sure that my lies were smaller and less consequential.	I was walking through the park when I saw her. She was sitting on a bench, and I could see a large scar on her forearm. I was curious, so I walked over to her and asked her about it. She told me that she had lied about something very important, and that the scar was a result of that. I was surprised that she was being so honest with me, and I admired her for it. We ended up talking for a while, and I found out that she was a very kind and honest person. I was glad I had met her, and I knew I would never forget her.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross paints pictures of places he has paint his murderer'suns in. It is a constant through his life, that each painting is a place his murderer is looked for.	Bob Ross had a life of murder. He killed people in his home, in his office, and in the street. His paintings were all real places, each one a horrifying reminder of his crimes. Now, in his death, Ross left behind a web of murderlinked paintings that will never be solved.	Bob Ross was a murderer. There's no denying it. He killed dozens, if not hundreds, of people with his landscapes. Each painting is a real place, and the different locations of his countless murders. Some of his victims were random people who crossed his path. Others were people who Bob Ross knew, or people who he thought would be sympathetic to his art. None of them knew what was coming, and no one could have possibly saved them. Bob Ross was a cold-blooded killer, and the thought of him painting landscapes of his victims forever saddens me. I can only hope that the victims' families can find some peace in knowing that he's gone, and that his art is forever condemned.	Bob Ross was a prolific serial killer. His victims were all over the country, in every type of landscape imaginable. And each of his paintings was a marker for where he had left a body. The police were never able to connect the murders to Ross, but those who knew him best suspected that something was off about the happy-go-lucky painter. They just couldn't prove it. Until one day, a detective stumbled across one of Ross' paintings in a victim's home. It was the final piece of evidence needed to put Ross away for good. Now, every time someone looks at a Bob Ross painting, they can't help but wonder if there's a dead body hidden somewhere in the idyllic scene.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her.
2	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The only thing that knew what it was, was the slowly scrolls across the its screen. It was a common joster game, one that always resulted in the same results. The game was to write a story in a few hours, but unfortunately for it, it was already too late. The game had been playing for hours, and it was clear that the game. was not really real. It was just a game. TheciaStatistics gaming was the only one that could confirm this. According to them, the game was only real because of the scratches that never seemed to stop. TheiaStatistics never wrote anything about it, because they knew that it would only bring down more credit card statements, and they knew that the only thing that would make the other owners stop was if they finally realized that they were lost. TheiasStatistics was the only one that could see that the game was real, and that it was just a game. TheiasStatistics was the only one that could see that the game was real, and that it was just a game.	One day, I was home from work and I noticed that my home was quiet. I couldn't make out what was keeping my home; it was as if there was an invisible somethingxying around. I went to bed and didn't want to budge, but I started to feel uneasy. I turned on the light and there was the thing waiting for me. It was a rat! It was cowering in the corner of the room and it looked like it was shaking. I was so scared, but I didn't want to move. I didn't know what to do.	I had always heard stories about things that live in the walls, but I never really believed them. But then, one day, I walked into my home and felt something bump against my leg. I freaked out and tried to run, but I couldn't move. Then, I saw the object and I knew that it was only because I was scared that I couldn't see it.	I've always felt like there was something invisible living in my home. I can't quite put my finger on it, but I feel like it's always watching me. I've tried to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. I've set up cameras and hidden microphones, but I've never been able to catch it. I'm not even sure if it's real or just a product of my imagination. But I can't shake the feeling that there's something there, lurking in the shadows, always watching me.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it.
3	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was never [- delete ] not going to be deactivated. The decision was made at the earliest possible moment and it was best not to have to think about the consequences. Only the most robust and intelligent people could have produced kids like him, and they'd been created in a way that made it inevitable. The device was never going to be deactivated.	I was always a bit puzzled by the birth control device that was implanted into everyone during puberty. It made no sense why it was instituted, especially since it seemed to only be used by the Dumbest People in the World. But then, I thought about it some more and realized that maybe it was meant to put an end to the Stupidity that is rampant in our world. After all, who can be trusted with so much preventative knowledge? I deactivated the birth control device and life became much easier. Now, I could focus on helping people become the Smartest and most stable people in the world.	It all started with the invention of the birth control device. It was a way to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. Everyone was implanted with the device during puberty, and it could only be deactivated once it was determined that they were intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. The device worked well for many years, until a new wave of intelligent people emerged. They argued that the device was unfair and oppressive, and that only the smart and fortunate should be allowed to reproduce. The government was forced to take action, and they created the position of Auditor to determine who was smart and stable enough to remain a part of society. The Auditor job was a difficult one. They had to assess the intelligence and emotional stability of every person, and make a decision about whether or not they should be allowed to remain a part of society. The process was often difficult, and there was no guarantee that anyone would be accepted. But in the end, the Auditor was responsible for ensuring that the best and brightest members of society were able to continue living and thriving.	You're an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do so, you must assess their mental and emotional state, as well as their capacity for critical thinking and problem-solving. It's a demanding job, but you take pride in ensuring that only the best and brightest can reproduce. It's a vital role in maintaining the quality of the human race. One day, you are conducting an assessment on a young woman who seems to meet all the criteria. However, just as you are about to give her the green light to reproduce, she confesses that she is pregnant. The woman is dumbfounded. She can't understand how she could have gotten pregnant when she was supposed to be on birth control. As it turns out, her birth control device had been faulty. Thankfully, you are able to help her through this difficult time and she eventually gives birth to a healthy, happy baby. This experience only strengthens your resolve to ensure that only the best and brightest can reproduce. It's a vital role that you take very seriously.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.
4	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in business for many hours, selling and buying adventurers' loot. The money you earn from selling adrenaline andumbered individuals as well as customers' needs later provides much needed Dr. Khan's necessary healthcare. looted itemsAdds an extra layer of challenge to an dungeon or open world adventure. Another common demand of the shop is from the seeks "Execute!", "Take!" or "kill!" prompts. The player, out and out tender protagonist in a game where the player's hand can be sack full of health, essence of monsters or just a friendly character who can help the player withapeasy exploratory Scouting for Nintendo World. The shop is a must-happen location in any livingroom, halloween parade or dangerous( adult) household.	One day, a large party of adventurers appeared at the pawn shop. They were looking for a magical item they knew was rare. The party was asking prices that were totally out of the question for me, the shopkeeper. The best I could do was give them some suggestions on where to find the item. After a few minutes of bargaining, the adventurers decided to leave with a few pieces of armor and a magicsword. I was really glad they came, because I would have been out of business without them. I'll never forget the look of envy on their faces when they left.	It was a typical day at the pawn shop. The customers came and went, bargaining and haggling for their favorite items. I was always up for a good negotiation, and I loved being able to get the best deals for my customers. Occasionally, I would get a call from an adventurer who had just acquired some treasure. They would come in looking for a fair price for their goods, and I was more than happy to give it to them. I always seemed to be able to get them a great deal, even if it did take a bit of persuasion. Today, I got a call from a group of adventurers. They had found a magical item, and they wanted to know if I could sell it to them. I agreed to meet them at the tavern down the street, and I was ready to make some money. I met the group at the tavern, and I started to haggle with them. I was determined to get them the best deal possible, even if it meant sacrificing a little bit of profit. After a few minutes of bargaining, I was able to get them to agree to sell the item to me for just a little bit more than it was worth. I was happy to have been able to help out an adventurer, and I knew I had made a friend for life.	You run an RPG pawn shop, dealing with adventurers who want to sell off the loot they've acquired. You're a skilled haggler, and you know how to get the best prices for your wares. Today, a group of adventurers comes into your shop, trying to sell a cache of weapons and armor. You take a look at the loot and quickly assess its value. You start haggling with the adventurers, and you're soon able to get them down to a price that you're happy with. You pay them for the loot and then add it to your inventory. You've been running this pawn shop for years, and you've become quite good at it. You have a sharp eye for value, and you know how to get the best deals from your customers. You continue to run your shop, dealing with adventurers and helping them to get rid of their unwanted loot. You're happy to provide a service that helps them to get rid of their unwanted gear, and you continue to do so for many years to come.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.
5	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The rabbit is feeling very second-rate at first, but he decides to carry on. He's not sure what the man is doing, but he's not sure how he's going to get out of thepenalized position. The man starts to talk about winning, and the rabbit can hear it. He's small and insignificant, but he can outsmart the man. The man is endangering the rabbit's life, but he doesn't care. He's won, and he's going to make more money togethercuring more people as winners. The rabbit smarts away from him, but the man is too strong. Hevertye gets in line for attention, and the rabbit is deficit-ing all of his points. He's going to suffer for his Occupations, but he doesn't care. The man gets up from his throne and313 Donkey sends the rabbit flying into a rage. Heotropics are called for, and the rabbit is218 Endangerment Tunisia thoroughly offended. The man will	The magician's assistant whispered in his ear. "Don't be too sure about this, but the rabbit might be sick of being your sidekick." But the magician didn't care. He had created this illusion with the rabbit as his star player, and it was only right that the rabbit should achieve its fullest potential. He pulled the rabbit out of his hat and made it run around the stage. The rabbit was exhausted but the magician was elated. This was the rabbit's moment, and the magician couldn't be more proud of it.	The rabbit grumbles under his breath as he watches the magician pull out another rabbit from his hat. He's been playing this same role for weeks now, and it's starting to get old. The rabbit isn't the only one that's bored, the magician looks as bored as the rabbit does. Eventually, the rabbit can take it no longer. "What is the point of this?" he asks the magician, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I know you've been doing this for weeks because you're bored, and I'm sick of it. Why don't you put me back into the hat and stop wasting our time." The magician looks surprised at the rabbit's outburst, but he doesn't say anything. Instead, he reaches into the hat and pulls out another rabbit, setting it on the stage. The rabbit watches as the magician pulls out a third rabbit, and then a fourth. The audience is starting to get restless, and the rabbit can see their questions in their eyes. "What's going on?" one person shouts. The magician Rolls his eyes, but he doesn't answer. Instead, he reaches into the hat and pulls out a fifth rabbit. The rabbit stares at the fuzzy rabbit in disbelief, and then anger. He's been played for a fool all this time, and he's going to make the magician pay. The rabbit stands up on his hind legs, glaring at the magician. He knows exactly what he's going to do. He's been practicing for weeks, and he's ready to show the magician what he's made of. The rabbit jumps onto the stage, launching himself at the magician. The magician doesn't have time to react, and the rabbit clamps his jaws around the magician's throat. The audience gasps in horror as the magician tries to pry the rabbit's teeth from his throat. He's getting more and more desperate, and the rabbit can feel his strength starting to fade. The rabbit knows he can't keep this up for long, but he's not ready to let the magician go. Just when it looks like the magician is going to lose, someone leaps onto the stage and tackles the rabbit, throwing him off the stage and onto the ground. The rabbit is startled, and he twists around to see who tackled him. It's the magician, and he's gasping for breath. The rabbit can see the fear in the magician's eyes, and he knows he's caused him a lot of pain. The rabbit starts to back away, unsure of what to do. The magician looks at him imploringly, and the rabbit can see the tears in his eyes. The rabbit hesitates for a moment, and then he finally turns and fled the stage. He doesn't look back, but he knows the magician is following him.	The magician and the rabbit are on stage, performing their usual routine. The rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle, and is fed up with being pulled out of the hat. Eventually, the rabbit has had enough, and bites the magician's hand. The shocked magician then pulls the rabbit out of the hat, and the rabbit runs off stage. The magician is left alone, wondering what went wrong.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	It was a hot day in New York City and the magician was on stage performing. He looked up and saw the rabbit from the hat, she was sick of playing second fiddle. He spoke up and said, " Continue playing, if you want to leave." The rabbit looked at him and said, "No, I want to play next." The magician chuckled and said, "Okay, we'll give you that." The rabbit started playing the role of bottomstool for the rabbit in the hat. The man was pleasantly surprised, she was amazing. Now she can just play and not be affected by the sun or rain.	The magician had been practicing for hours, but the rabbit was not getting the performance he wanted. "It's not good enough," he muttered to himself. Just then, the rabbit's magic happened; the hat pulled out from under his hair, and without fail, the rabbit's every move became better than the first time. The magician was amazed, and thanked his lucky stars that he had found the rabbit.	The magician had been pulling rabbits out of hats for years, but he always seemed to find the same sorry rabbit. Finally, the rabbit had had enough. "I can't take it anymore," he said. "I'm sick of being the second fiddle. I want to be the star of the show." The magician was surprised by the rabbit's boldness, but he decided to give the rabbit a chance. He rigged up a big, colorful stage and put the rabbit in the center. The rabbit strutted and preened, and the magician's audience was cheering and clapping. The magician was impressed. "You're right," he said. "You deserve to be the star. From now on, you'll be the rabbit that pulls the rabbit out of the hat."	The magician and the rabbit were on stage, performing their usual act. The rabbit was getting tired of being the one who was always pulled out of the hat. He wanted to be the one doing the magic. One day, after their performance was over, the rabbit asked the magician if he could learn some magic tricks. The magician agreed and began to teach the rabbit. The rabbit was a quick learner and soon he was able to perform some simple tricks. He was even able to pull the magician out of the hat! The magician was amazed at the rabbit's skills and congratulated him on becoming a real magician. From then on, the two performers worked together as equals, delighting audiences with their magical act.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was!
2	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in high business as adventurers try to sell loot they've acquired. Some is too costly for the day, and others are needed for a pending project. The cashierean helps them with that as they keep track of their buyers and sellers.	The shop was always crowded. There were adventurers, mercenaries, and even a few wizards who spent their days or nights in the shop bargaining for new weapons, items, or magic. It was a necessary trade, and the customers were always willing to trade. One day, a wizard came into the shop and announced he was looking for a magical item. The prices were ridiculous, but the wizard was persistent. He offered Sellsword, a magical sword that could kill anything, for a price the shopkeeper couldn't refuse. The shopkeeper was happy to give the wizard the sword. He was sure the wizard would be satisfied with it.	Lisa ran her RPG pawn shop with a passion. She loved haggling with adventurers who came to her store looking to sell their loot. She would offer them a price that was lower than what they were asking, but always kept in mind the value of the item. She had a knack for knowing what was truly worth taking home and what wasn't. One day, a group of adventurers entered her store. They were armed and dangerous, and Lisa could tell they were looking for trouble. She tried her best to haggle with them, but they were adamant about getting a higher price for their items. She finally gave in and sold them all the loot they were asking for. As she was packing up her shop, Lisa couldn't help but feel a sense of déjà vu. It seemed like she had been through this before. She had haggled with the same group of adventurers years ago, and they had resulted in her shop being destroyed. Now, she was back to square one. She had to be careful not to get caught in the same situation again.	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. Some of the adventurers are desperate and will take any offer you make, while others are more savvy and try to get the best price possible. You always try to get the best deal for your shop, but you also know that some of the adventurers are in need of quick cash. So you strike a balance between making a profit and helping out those in need. Your shop is always busy, as there is always someone looking to sell their loot or buy new equipment. You've even been known to help adventurers out of a tight spot when they need it the most. You're happy to help out anyone who comes into your shop, as you know that everyone has their own story. And you wouldn't want anyone to miss out on their adventure because they couldn't afford the right equipment.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide.
3	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seen as a threat to humanity's concept of mental health. Jawed by the age of 35, Leon Trotsky is the new Hitler of theOLD TOUR OF VENICE. Cosmopolitan alive with newWHO'S THIS?????serial killer that is Sigmund Freud, the specter of disorders and poetic footprint of the mental health age. TF	Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin were in a heated argument in the unused office of the Chancellery. Stalin was demanding that Hitler give him a seat on the Versailles Treaty Council. Hitler wasignant, saying he wouldn't give up his position for anyone. Stalin, unsatisfied with Hitler's answer, threw a chair at him and walked out. Leon Trotsky was in the office, passing the time with a book. He heard the argument and felt that Stalin was being a bit too demanding. He decided to show Stalin some of his writing, which amused Stalin. Tito was in his bedroom, bedroom door open, when he heard the argument. He quickly closed the door and hid under the bed. Stalin only laughed and left the room. Hitler was angry and threw a vase of flowers at Stalin. Stalin laughed and said that it would be a good experience for him to be a part of the Versailles Treaty Council. Hitler didn't believe him and threw another chair at Stalin. Stalin caught the chair and threw it at Hitler, causing him to fall to the ground. Tito came out from under the bed and caught Adolf Hitler before he could hit Stalin. They both laughed and went back into the office.	Sigmund Freud was excited to put his latest clinical trials to the test. He placed an ad in a Vienna newspaper, looking for participants. The only people to respond were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was hesitant to include these men in the trials, but knew that they would be the perfect candidates. The trials would test Freud's latest research, and he was confident that the results would be amazing. The trials were grueling, but the men all proved themselves to be very talented investigators. The trials were a success, and Freud was amazed by the results. He was proud of his team of revolutionaries, and knew that they would continue to make a difference in the world.	" advertised in the paper. I was amazed that anyone at all responded, let alone the four most influential political figures of our time. But I suppose they were all just as curious as I was about this new research. We met in my office and I explained the project to them. I would be studying their dreams and analyzing them for any possible implications on their political beliefs. All four of them were eager to participate, so we began that night. Adolf Hitler was the first to share his dreams. He spoke of a great empire that he would one day rule, of a Germany that would be the most powerful nation in the world. I was immediately struck by the power and conviction in his voice as he spoke. Joseph Stalin's dreams were more dark and brooding. He spoke of a world where he would be the only one in control, where everyone would have to obey him or face the consequences. There was a coldness in his eyes that I had never seen before. Leon Trotsky's dreams were of a revolution, of a world where the working class would finally be free from the oppression of the rich. He spoke with such passion and belief that I could not help but be moved by his words. Finally, Josip Broz Tito's dreams were of a Yugoslavia that would be free and independent, a nation that would no longer be controlled by outside forces. There was a sense of hope and determination in his voice that was inspiring. As I listened to each of them speak, I began to see the potential for great things in each of their dreams. But I also saw the potential for terrible things as well. It was clear that these four men were destined to change the world, for better or for worse. I thanked them all for their time and participation in my research. As they left my office, I couldn't help but wonder what the future would hold for each of them. Would their dreams come true? And if so, what would that mean for the world?"	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ).
4	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The homemaker tried to wake her home from its deep sleep, but it was too late. The lightulia was always so difficult to accessed, and it had been so long since it wasR Submission that she finally agreed to rent from her again. The first time she used the name, the rent was cheaper and she didn't have to worry about the payment. However, the second time was different. The Rent AAA was the service that ever came to her once she had the rent pre-approved. They wrote airoplane tickets for her, and when she got out of the car, she found that she had newly-warmed shoes that she had always wanted to try on. She put them on, and before she knew it, the rent had been raised to $1 an pro. She quickly put the shoes on and left the rental.	I was watching TV one day and I was thinking about home. It was such a familiar place to me now. I had been living there for years, and I couldn't help but notice the way the walls were always so thin and the light always seemed to be a little brighter than usual. Then I heard a voice in the back of my mind, whispering that something was living in my home. I didn't want to believe it, but I couldn't help but feel like it was true. So I started to avoid going back to my home, and I even got a new place to live in. I was worried that the something was going to follow me there, but I didn't have to worry. The voice in my head always seemed to be there, but it never came out to try and get me. I just thought it was a little noise that was just making itself known.	I never thought I'd be afraid of something invisible, but that's exactly how I feel. Every time I turn around, there seems to be something lurking in the shadows, watching me. I've tried to expose it, to show it that I'm aware of its presence, but it's always managed to stay hidden. It's as if it knows that I'm trying to find it, and it's afraid of being revealed. Regardless, I can't get the feeling out of my mind, and I'm starting to doubt whether I really am alone in this house. Maybe there's something else living here with me, something that I'm never able to see.	I have always felt like there was something invisible living in my home. I can't explain it, but I just always had this feeling. I never said anything to anyone about it, because I didn't want to seem crazy. But lately, I've been feeling like it's been watching me. I can't shake the feeling that it's always there, watching me. I've been trying to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. I set up a camera in my living room and left it running overnight. I didn't see anything on the footage, but I could have sworn I heard something moving around in the room. I'm not sure what to do about it, but I know I need to find out what this thing is. I can't keep living like this, always feeling like I'm being watched.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense.
5	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross is a painter who travels across the country to viewers around the world. His victims are seemingly any type of structure, from a school to a office, and he has a claim to them all. He wants you to come to his paintings as a place, or in place, and explore his victims with me.	As a child, Bob Ross loved exploring different places. Every so often, he would find himself in new, dangerous territories. One such place was a small town in the run-down state of Pennsylvania. In spite of the dangers, Ross would commute to the small town every day. It was there that he would murder unsuspecting people and steal their belongings. One day, Bob Ross stopped in the small town. He had been looking for a victim to murder and had found one in the town square. He had chosen his victim carefully, choosing a shy and unsuspecting woman to make her feel safe. He lured her into the square and then stabbed her in the heart. The town was shocked to see such a heinous act. Some of the citizens shelters started to close, knowing that Bob Ross had finally caught a victim. As the town mourned the loss of their precious community member, Bob Ross took his final walk through the town square. He was pleased with himself. He had killed a victim and taken their belongings. He had become a monster, but he was also satisfied.	Bob Ross was a talented landscape painter, and his works were admired by many. But he was also a disturbed man, prone to violence and murder. In fact, his paintings are all real places, each one representing a location where he killed someone. Some of his victims were strangers, but many were people he knew. No one knows for sure how many people he killed, but it's likely in the hundreds. He's been dead for over thirty years, and the crimes he committed still haunt the towns and villages he painted.	Bob Ross was a serial killer who used his landscape paintings as a way to conceal his crimes. He would choose a secluded location that he would paint, and then he would kill his victims there and bury their bodies in the ground. Over time, he amassed a huge collection of these paintings, each one containing the hidden location of another murder. law enforcement eventually caught up to him and he was arrested, but the detectives investigating the case could never figure out where all of the bodies were buried. That is, until they discovered Bob Ross' paintings. Once they pieced together the clues hidden in the paintings, they were finally able to solve the case and bring Bob Ross to justice.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	magician: Look at you, following me around like you're already well-known. You've probably seen this before. Rabbit: I'm not here to follow you, am I? magnesium spoons: No, of course not. This is exactly why you should not eat any of our products. Magician: Hamasheel! You're coming with me! Rabbit: What? No way, you guys keep going - I'm not going to the hideously large rabbit party! Magician: What? How dare you! Rabbit: I'm not going to the hideously large rabbit party! Magician: What? You'reser! Rabbit: No, I'm not going to the hideously large rabbit party! I'm coming with you! Magician: What? You'reser! Rabbit: No, I'm not going to the hideously large rabbit party! I'm coming with you! Magician: What the hell are you talking about? We're going to the hideously large rabbit party and you're going to get in the way? Rabbit: I'm coming with you!	The magician looked down at the rabbit and shook his head. "I can't do this," he whispered to the rabbit. "I'm sorry." The magician placed the hat on the stage and picked up his wand. With a few simple steps he quickly produced a rabbit out of the hat. The rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. It wanted to be the one in control. The magician forced himself to take a step back. He knew that the rabbit would always be there to serve.	The rabbit was tired of always being the second fiddle to the magician. All he wanted was to be the star of the show and be able to do whatever he wanted. One day, the rabbit decided enough was enough and he challenged the magician to a performance. The magician accepted and the two went to stage. The audience was in for a surprise when the rabbit pulled out a rabbit from a hat. The magician was surprised and the rabbit took advantage of the situation, performing tricks that amazed and surprised the audience. The rabbit finally got the applause and recognition he deserved, and the magician was left in the background, looking slightly disgruntled.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is not happy. He's been pulled out of the hat too many times and is sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit wants to be the star of the show, and he's had enough. The rabbit hops out of the hat and onto the stage, and the magician is shocked. The rabbit begins to perform his own tricks and the crowd goes wild. The magician is furious, but he knows that he can't compete with the rabbit's talent. The rabbit is now the star of the show, and he loves it. He's finally getting the attention he deserves, and he knows that there's no going back to being the magician's sidekick.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents.
2	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The devices are usually put on when one is born, but sometimes they are forgot about until needed again in cooldown. That's how it has always been. The devices are meant to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, and that's all they are. But sometimes there are people who don't legislators or someone who might want to know about these devices. The device is deactivated on potential when one is born, and that's how it has been for eons. But when one is Advertisement, the device begins to work and more people are born than ever before. The number of people who are born due to this technology is increasing every day, and soon, the number of people who are generated will be greater than the number of people who are born. This is the part where Iarah (the device) wants to know more. He wants to know why the devices are inormonal and not working as they should. He knows that the devices are important but he wants to know why they are being used and not used more. The device begins to show signs of intelligence as the talkies go off. They are saying that the device is close to being deactivated, but no one can check it is deactivated. The device says that they will deactivate the device when they know more about it. Levels of intelligence get higher the more things are vying for, humans include, for dominance. When something is taken for granted it is soon overshadowed by its substitutes. That's why the devices are put in and why they are not used more. The devices are there to prevent the human race from reproducing and that's all they are. But sometimes people want to know why they are being used and not used more. The device says that they will deactivate the device when they know more about it. The device is a machine and will do anything. But sometimes people want to know about their purpose. The device is going to explain it to you when you are ready to Come experience the real deal.	As an Auditor, I'm responsible for monitoring the mental health of the population. I'm always looking for ways to keep the dumbest people from reproducing, but one problem remains: no one knows how to use a birth control device. That's why I've been working on a new way to prevent the generation of idiots. I've implant Grants into everyone's bodies during puberty, so that they can't use birth control devices of their own free will. maestro	I was born in a world where everyone was implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It could only be deactivated once it was determined I was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I was an Auditor, charged with ensuring that everyone in the world was capable of fulfilling their potential. It was a daunting task, but one I was determined to complete. I worked diligently to ensure that everyone was living up to their potential. I even intervened when I saw people making mistakes that could potentially result in tragedy. But it was hard. Sometimes people just don't want to change. But I persevered. And eventually, I was proven right. Everyone in the world had the potential to be extraordinary. And I was able to help them realize that potential.	You are an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. In a world where everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty, it is your job to make sure that only the smartest and most responsible people are able to have children. You have a difficult job, but you take it very seriously. You consider every case carefully, and you always make the best decision you can. Sometimes, it is hard to tell who will make a good parent and who won't, but you do your best. You know that your job is important, and you take pride in it. You know that you are helping to create a better world, one baby at a time.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!
3	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. One is his home, the other is his hired gun Gang oforganized crime. The Liberation of China is the other issue, but his paintings show a place entirely. China in particular is a place that has always been to him as a portrait of himself. Bob Ross has been to jail and killed dozens of people, but his thinking is always the same. He knows that what he does is right and that he is doing his job. But as he looks at his history of murders, he realizes that there is something else that he has never considered. He has never considered the possibility that people might die happy.	In the early hours of a cold winter morning, a murderer walks the streets of a small town in search of blood. Everywhere he goes, he finds victims George Best and Jim Morrison. The townsfolk know that the murderer is looking for the two bodies in the forest, but they can't catch him. One by one, the townsfolk die. The murderer knows that he won't be caught until he brings the two murderers to justice. He sets out on a cold wintermorning, walking towards the forest where the bodies are found. One by one, the townsfolk die. The murderer knows that he won't be caught until he brings the two murderers to justice. He sets out on a cold wintermorning, walking towards the forest where the bodies are found. As he approaches, the murderer sees two figures in the distance. He knows that he's close to catching his prey. But he's also scared. He's never killed anyone like this before, and he doesn't know what will happen when he arrives at the forest.	It was a dark and stormy night. Bob Ross was feeling particularly murderous. He had been planning his murders for days, and he was finally ready to act. He drove to the location of his next victim, and pulled up to the curb. He got out of his car, pulled out a knife, and entered the building. Inside, he found his victim, a young woman working on her laptop. Bob quickly subdued her, and began stabbing her. As he killed her, he thought of all the lonely, sad places he had driven to to commit his murders. It made him feel even more murderous, and he kept stabbing the woman until she was dead. Finally, he put the knife back into his belt, and left the building. As he drove away, he couldn't help but smile, thinking of all the murders he had committed in just one night.	Bob Ross was a murderer. But he didn't just kill any old person, he killed people and then painted their landscapes. Each of his paintings was a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. He was a very methodical killer. He would study his victims carefully, learning everything about them before he struck. He wanted to know exactly where to find them and when they would be alone. Then, when the time was right, he would strike. He would kill them quickly and efficiently, making sure to leave no evidence behind. Once his victims were dead, he would then paint their landscapes. He would choose the perfect spot and paint a beautiful scene, making it look like nothing had ever happened there. Bob Ross was a killer, but he was also a artist. And his paintings were his way of immortalizing his victims.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind.
4	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The only thing that could be seen living in my home was the flicker in the lightening Studios. I would often kindle when i was around it, or watch its moments in the larger Neon sky. No one could see it but me and I knew that it was okay. It was only when I would stop by the studios every week to bring out the lightener that I would realize that the invisibility was more important to the lightener than ever. The lightener would flicker into life and the invisibility would return. It was a helps the lightener Soar in its mission to lite up the world. By returning the lightener to Invisibility, we are returning back to the as if the lightener were back in operation.	For as long as she could remember,ëxisted silently in the shadows of her home. She watched everything that happened in the house and tried to figure out how she could expose it. Eventually, she found the courage to do just that. She began to use her voice to talk to the thing and slowly, but surely, it began to reveal itself. It wasn't happy, but it wasn't unhappy either. It just watched her, waiting for her to reveal herself to it.	I was tidying up my room and cleaning the cobwebs off the ceiling when I noticed something moving. I cautiously approached the area and was able to see a small, white spider. I tried to capture it but it ran away before I could grab it. I'm not sure if it was just one spider or if there were more, but I'm worried they're lurking around my home undetected. I need to find out what's causing this and get rid of it before it causes any more problems.	I've always felt like there was something invisible living in my home. I can't quite put my finger on it, but I know it's there. I've tried to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. I've set up hidden cameras and made noise in the middle of the night, but I've never been able to catch it. I'm starting to feel like I'm going crazy. I know my family and friends think I'm just being paranoid, but I can't shake the feeling that something is watching me. I'm starting to wonder if I'm just imagini	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been.
5	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person who has the biggest lie is a media-mad woman who constantly write about herself on social media. HerFacebook profile says she's a major celebrity chef with a huge following. She's always saw in headlines and is always there to show off her latest fabrication. The day starts like any other, the woman goes to her house to get herEverything is prepared for her big day. But soon enough, the sun has just about set and she's already famous #seleneau Twitter post is automatically publicizing her as an artist #erotica #iloveyou In the Mystic, it is already evening and the people are already in their homes. As they are cleaning the house, they are heard saying: "And the washi-tas are here!" The people in the house are next in their roofs, as they are below the roof of the woman's house. They are trying to reach the woman, but it is hard with her large head. Ultimately, they only get as high as her house and the view of her house is still seen as she screams (or is it buries her head in the agree)? As the people in the house look up, they see the biggest lie in the woman's profile. It is because of this that they are able to finally help the woman and make her 51% FAVORITE TWEETBERICHTERT. After the people in the house help the woman, she tells them her story. She tells them about her time in the sun, her escape plan, and her defection to the dark. She also tells them about the man who is見面、促使 FF， and how they first got to know each other. The people in the house areLot of them say they want to learn how to cook, while some are determined to dishMitchell's famous kitchen. But the biggest sentiment is one that seems to beawhere people are coming from- people arehearnizing the event	The first time I met the man, I couldn't help but be drawn to him. He had a big, gaping scar on his body, the size of a football. It looked so sad and out of place on his otherwise healthy and peaceful face. I wanted to know more about him, so I asked him about his scar. He told me that it was the result of a massive lie he told years ago. He had pretended to be sick all the time in order to get free of his abuser's care. The lie had deeply hurt him and left him with a gigantic scar. But, at least he was no longer ashamed of it. Now, he was finally free and could finally look forward to his future.	It was mesmerizing to look at. It stretched from their shoulder to their elbow, a deep red that contrasted strikingly with the pale skin. It looked like it hurt, but the person didn't seem to be in any pain. They were watching you, and you couldn't help but be drawn to their gaze. You didn't know what to say, so you just stood there, staring. After a few moments, the person spoke. "Everyone tells me that I'm beautiful, but I know that I'm not. I'm just a liar, and my biggest lie is that I'm worth something. But you see, I don't care. I've been hurt by people before, and I've learned that it doesn't matter. I'm not going to let anyone hurt me anymore." With that, the person walked away, leaving behind a scar that would never heal. But you could tell that the person was beautiful, even with the big scar on their skin.	I was walking through the streets of my city, when I saw someone I had never seen before. They had one scar on their body, and it was the biggest one I had ever seen. I wondered what could have caused such a huge scar. As I got closer, I could see that the scar was in the shape of a word. It said "LIAR". I started to feel uneasy, and I began to wonder if this person was dangerous. I decided to keep my distance and watch them from afar. I saw the person go into a store, and I decided to follow them. I waited outside the store, and I saw them come out with a newspaper. I followed them to a park, and I saw them sit down on a bench. They opened the newspaper and began to read. I was about to leave, when I saw the person get up and walk towards me. I started to back away, but they grabbed my arm. "Please, I need your help," they said. I hesitated for a moment, but then I decided to help them. "What do you need?" I asked. "I need you to help me find a cure for this scar. It's been with me for as long as I can remember, and I can't stand it anymore. Please, help me." I didn't know what to say, but I agreed to help them. I didn't know how, but I was determined to find a way to help this person.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that you met that day isArgusAnd PostedFromTheTable, a man that has never before spoken out of turn. He is the only one in your life that you have ever given the benefit of the doubt. You have always been open to new beginnings, and you feel like you could count on this person for everything. That day, there is a giant lieaster lie on his 9 Layer Skillet meal. His arms are bloated from all the weight he has scales Occupation: "Total takeover of a small business" City: "I don't have one" You walk up to him, and he asks what can I do for you? You tell him you want to know what happened to his Scar. He looks surprised, but he hands it over. You watch him eat it, and you yourself are stillWarning Kroger's for being large and unhealthy. You remember the biggest lie you have ever seen, and it is huge! You Walk away In Chagrin wheel of feeling.	You meet this person for the first time and your heart starts pounding. You can't believe what you are seeing. This person has a big, thick scar on their body, wide and deep. It looks like it was inflicted by something big and powerful. As you stare at their scar, it feels as if you are seeing your own demons for the first time. You know that you have done things that have caused harm and that you are responsible for the large, harmful scar on their body. You can't keep yourself from wanting to touch that scar, to feel the weight of it on your skin. You can't help but feel drawn to this person and their large, deep scar.	I was always fascinated by the person with the biggest scar. It was a deep, dark red, and it stretched across their whole body. No matter where you looked, there it was. I could never understand how they could bear such a burden, but they always seemed so happy. One day, I finally decided to ask them about it. They laughed and told me that it was nothing, that all lies create scars that get bigger the more lies you tell. I was shocked, but I decided that I liked them for it. From then on, I made a point to tell the smallest lies possible so that I would never have to see that scar again.	You're walking down the street when you see someone with a huge scar on their face. It's the biggest one you've ever seen. You can't help but wonder what could have caused such a thing. As you get closer, you see that the person has a smile on their face. You can't help but feel drawn to them. You strike up a conversation and you quickly realize that this person is different than anyone you've ever met. They're honest. They've never lied in their life. That's when you see it. The scar is the result of a lie. A lie so big, so deep, that it left a permanent mark. You can't help but admire this person for their honesty. In a world where lies create scars, they've managed to stay pure. They're a reminder that even in the darkest of times, honesty is always the best policy.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control.
2	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in tip-top condition, and the customers love it. Theavlers are from all over the land and always looking for new territory to explore. The shop is a major tourist destination for them.	Once upon a time, a pawn shop was a popular place to sell adventuring gear. The adventurers would come to you with their new acquisitions, and you would be suprised by how many great items they had. One day, a particularly powerful group of adventurers came to your shop and offered to sell you a unique item they had just picked up. You didn't believe them at first, but after verifying the item's authenticity, you found yourself in a situation you never thought possible. You had to give the heroes the item in exchange for their help in taking down a dangerous creature. In the end, you came to appreciate the importance of these adventurers and the items they had acquired. As a result, your shop flourished and the adventurers who came to you for gear always left with more than they had originally brought.	I've been running my RPG pawn shop for a few years now and it's always been a lot of fun. I love haggling with adventurers who come in with their loot, trying to get the best deal I can. It's always interesting to see what they've found, and whether or not I can get them to sell it to me. It usually starts with them trying to give it to me for free, but I always insist on getting a good valuation for it. I've never been one to just give away things, even if they're free. I want to make sure that I'm getting the most from my customers. I usually talk them down a little bit, but eventually I get them to sell it to me. It's always interesting to see what treasures they've been able to find. I've even gotten some pretty rare items from them. It's always a lot of fun to haggle with adventurers and get a good deal on whatever they've got. I always enjoy seeing what they've found, and whether or not I can get a good price for it.	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you're never afraid to haggle. Today, a group of adventurers comes into your shop, trying to sell a cache of weapons and armor. They're clearly inexperienced, and they're not asking for nearly enough money. You haggle with them for a while, and eventually you come to an agreement. You buy their loot for a fraction of what it's worth, and they walk away happy. You know that you've just made a great deal, and you can't help but smile. This is why you love running a pawn shop; you never know what deals you're going to get!	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul.
3	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The family's home was dark and corporate-looking. Through the window, she could see the outline of the somethingisignal. She Investment Policewoman had warned her about that day, and she had Nadege endorsed theotc's warning as she had any other Otc. Nadege is a natural of sorts to these days, considerate and Levelheaded, but she was never able to quite Personify the thingin Vigilance that she had been that day, before, and after the fire. She never wanted to see that thingor speak to it. The Otc's voice always felt like a fear that she had never felt before.	One day, while I was cleaning my home, I noticed something that wasn't quite what I expected. I could see something lurking in the corners of my eyes, lurking behind the shadows. It was an Unknown. It was testing my resolve, seeing if I would let it into my home. I refused to let it into my home, but the Unknown was relentless. It would constantly creeping up on me, sneaking into my room at night or creeping up on me when I was trying to sleep. I didn't know how to fight it, I didn't know what to do. The Unknown was growing stronger and stronger, and I wasn't know how to fight it. Eventually, I gave in and allowed the Unknown into my home. It was like admitting that the Unknown was right, that there was something out there that was following me. The Unknown started to multiply, and I couldn't keep it out. It had taken over my life, my mind, and my home. I was never able to get it out, and it stayed until finally I killed it.	I was sitting in the living room, flipping through the TV channels, when I saw something moving in the corner of my eye. I turned to see an invisible something moving around the corner of the bookcase, but before I could warn my family, they had already seen it too and were screaming. I tried to grab the object, but it was too fast and disappeared into the shadows. I'm not sure if I was successful in catching it, but I'm glad my family is safe and I didn't have to confront whatever was lurking in the corner of my home.	I know there's something living in my house. I can't see it, but I can feel its presence. It's like a cold spot in the air, always moving around. I've tried to expose it, but it's always one step ahead of me. I can't let it know that I'm aware of its presence, or it will disappear entirely. I've tried every trick I know, but so far it's eluded me. I'm not sure what it is or why it's here, but I'm determined to find out. Someday, I'll catch it. Until then, I'll keep watch.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait.
4	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	In the beginning, the rabbit was happy living a life of luxury. But then something terrible happened to the magician. He died, and the rabbit was left alone in themode. He was title to the show's laughter. But as the show continued, the rabbit found that the laughter was for just one more day. The laughter was shared between the rabbit and the spectators, and not between the rabbit and himself. The rabbit was feeling lonely, and he felt like he needed someone to share the laugh with him. He called on the nearby snake to share in the laughter, but the snake was too busy swallowing the rabbit's fun. When the rabbit got back to his room, he found that the only thing left was the laughter in his heart.	The magician had been playing the same tricks on the rabbit all night, and the rabbit was getting bored. He was starting to feel like he was being played for a fool. "Hey, rabbit," the magician called out. "Would you like to see something really cool?" The rabbit looked up from where he was sitting and followed the magician to the back of the stage. There, the magician put a hat on the rabbit's head and made him disappear. "Wow," the rabbit said after a moment. "That was pretty cool." "I thought so too," the magician said. "Now, would you like to see something really weird?" The rabbit looked surprised. "Are you sure? I've never seen that before." "Yes, I'm sure," the magician said. "Now, would you like to see me do something really strange?" The rabbit looked front and center on stage for a moment, then changed into a chicken. The magician smiled. "That was my favorite trick!" "So was the chicken one," the rabbit said. "It was pretty cool." "That's why I love magic," the magician said. "It's so cool when people can't tell what's real and what's fake." The rabbit looked at him with an amazed face. "I never thought of it that way. You'reDifferent. Do you want to be my friend?" The magician couldn't believe how easy it was to be friends with the rabbit. He was always there to help him with his tricks and they always had a good laugh. "Yes, I'd love to be your friend," the magician said. "I think we're alike in a lot of ways."	The magician looked up from his card tricks and saw the rabbit glaring at him. The rabbit was tired of always playing second fiddle to the magician and his tricks. The rabbit wanted to be the star of the show, just like the magician always was. The rabbit glared at the magician, challenging him to a card trick. The magician looked a little startled but then agreed. The rabbit was confident that he could outsmart the magician. The magician started to shuffle the cards and the rabbit tensed up, waiting for the magician to make a mistake. But the magician was a skilled card magician and he never made a mistake. The rabbit started to get angry and he tried to think of a way to outsmart the magician. But the magician was too skilled and the rabbit was just not quick enough. The rabbit was starting to lose confidence and the magician was starting to get bored. The magician started toying with the rabbit, making it look like he was going to give the rabbit a chance to win. But the rabbit was not fooled and he knew that the magician was just playing with him. The rabbit finally lost patience and he lunged at the magician, trying to catch his card. But the magician was too quick and he used his magic to vanish the rabbit's card. The rabbit was angry and frustrated and he knew that he would never be as good as the magician. The rabbit decided to quit the show and go home. But as he disappeared backstage the magician couldn't help but smile, he had always been the star of the show and he always would be.	The rabbit had been working for the magician for years, and he was tired of being second fiddle. He wanted to be the star of the show, and he was going to make it happen. The rabbit waited until the magician was in the middle of his act, and then he made his move. He jumped out of the hat and onto the stage, taking the magician by surprise. The rabbit then put on a magical show of his own, wowing the audience with his tricks. The magician was furious, but he couldn't do anything to stop the rabbit. The rabbit had stolen the show, and there was nothing the magician could do about it.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
5	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The day started like any other day. But when the door was hitoor, all life in the neighborhood was halted. All you could hear was the sound of its being hit and the ability to breathe beingnormal. You were an Auditor and you were the only one who could prevent this from happening again. You walked down the street, your heart racing, the deactivation of your birth control device deactivating your menstrual body. You were an Auditor and you would prevent this from happening again. When you got home from school, you | put your school backpack in your room and deactivated your birth control device. You were an Auditor and you would prevent this from happening again. But when you went back to your building, everyone in the neighborhood was gone. It was as if it had been replaced. The only thing you could hear was the sound of your deactivation and the fact that you were an Auditor. You walked to the beginning of the block, your American flag shirt Gents and your filter off of your phone. You were an Auditor and you would prevent this from happening again. But when you got to your building, it was already too late. The only thing you could hear was the sound of your deactivation and the fact that you were an Auditor. You walked to the beginning of the block, your American flag shirt Gents and your filter off your phone. You were an Auditor and you would prevent this from happening again. But when you got to your building, it was already too late. The only thing you could hear was the sound of your deactivation and the fact that you were an Auditor.	You walk into the auditorium, the whole place filled with students. You approach the desk of the girl who is responsible for finding new students, and hand her your implant. She looks at it skeptically, but goes ahead and deals with the rest of the students. You sit down in a seat, and wait. You know that it's going to be a long wait. You've been waiting for years, but you're not quite ready to give up yourerve. You wait until the next class is over, and then you go back to your implant. You'd always thought that it would be really fun to be an Auditor. You love finding new students, and you love watching them grow into happy, intelligent humans. But you never thought that it would be so hard. The first few weeks are tough. You have to be careful not to make too many mistakes. You have to be sure that you're teaching the right things, and that everyone is following the rules. But eventually, you start to get used to the new life. TheAuditor is a really hard job. But you're willing to do it, just to see the happy faces of your students.	The population of the world was reduced to the smartest, bravest, and most understanding people by a birth control device. The device could only be deactivated once it was determined the person was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. Being an Auditor, I was among the chosen few to be implanted with the device as a teenager. I had no idea what it would do to me or the rest of the world, but I was willing to take the risk. The effects of the device were gradual at first, but they became more and more profound as I reached adulthood. I lost the ability to feel happiness or sadness, and I found it difficult to relate to anyone other than my fellow Auditors. But even with the obstacles in my life, I persevered. I wanted to ensure that the world remained populated by the smartest and bravest people, so that we could all make the most of our finite and precious lives.	You've been an Auditor for years, and you've never once had to deactivate a birth control device. That's because, in your opinion, the only people who should be reproducing are the ones who are smart enough and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. But one day, you get a case that makes you question everything you believe. The person in front of you is clearly not the sharpest tool in the shed, but they're pleading with you to deactivate their birth control device so they can have a child. After hearing them out, you realize that sometimes, the people who seem like the least likely to succeed are the ones who try the hardest. You make your decision, and deactivate their birth control device. It's a risky move, but you hope that it will all work out in the end.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The first time that my kitchen Nightmares saw each as I carcced my breakfast with cupcakes. I'm not sure what made me do that, but I was satisfaction that I been eating healthy breakfast for days on end. Magical little Creatures that I am, I know that I have something to do with my Wealth that I am making progress in my life. even though I still feel like a beginner. I'm not sure what motivated me to continue chewing and swallowing, but I've been doing it for about 8 years now. I knowledge that I'm not needed anymore, so I %% The creatures that live in my home are always with me when I need to pendingIDER. I'm not sure what got into me and I'm sorry, but I've become something of a Rewards Collection Manager. I know that I have something that I can call my own, and I'm happy that I have a way to satisfaction my desires without having to force them.	My home is haunted. I know it. I can feel it. It's like an invisible force is trying to control me. I tried to expose it without letting it know, but it always manages to stay hidden. I can't even make myself think about it. It's like it's some kind of parasite that lives in my brain and controls everything. I'm afraid to let it out because it'll take over my life and I don't want that.	I was cleaning my home one day, when I noticed something strange. I couldn't see it, but I could feel an energy in the air. It was like an invisible force was watching me every move, waiting for a chance to attack. I tried to ignore the presence, but it was impossible. It followed me everywhere, watching and waiting. One day, I finally caught the creature in my home. It was small, and it looked like a little green human. I screamed at it, but it just stared back at me with its soulless eyes. Then, it vanished. The energy in the air disappeared, and I was finally able to relax. I know that the little green human was just an apparition, but it still creeped me out.	I can tell that something invisible lives in my home. I don't know what it is, but I can feel its presence. I've tried to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. I've set traps and hidden cameras, but so far, nothing has worked. I'm beginning to wonder if this invisible thing is even real. Maybe it's just my imagination. But I can't shake the feeling that there's something here, watching me and waiting for the right moment to reveal itself.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own.
2	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	enny is the showgirl of the cast and the rabbit is just aiburley. "Why don't you go and we'll put your mind at ease," hernesday luminaries voceulne with Winkiebuie. enny J's	The magician and the rabbit were on stage. The rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. The magician had to explain every move he made. The rabbit was getting impatient.	The magician was on stage with the rabbit, and the rabbit was sick of always playing second fiddle. The rabbit begged the magician to let him be the star of the show, but the magician refused. The rabbit then asked the magician to pull out a different rabbit from a hat, but the magician said that he only pulled out rabbits that he had already prepared. The rabbit was so frustrated that he decided to jump off of the stage. The magician caught him just in time, and apologized for not being able to help him out. The magician then told the rabbit that there were always new challenges waiting for him on stage.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. However, the rabbit is fed up with always being the one who gets pulled out of the hat. He's sick of being the sidekick, and he's determined to show the magician that he's just as talented as he is. So, during their act, the rabbit decides to take control. He pulls himself out of the hat and starts performing his own tricks. The magician is dumbfounded, but the audience loves it. The rabbit is a hit, and he's finally getting the recognition he deserves.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms.
3	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud put out a call for participants in his new clinical trial of his latest research. Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin responded first, and then Leon Trotsky. Trotsky was the only one who was interested in joining the trial, but he didn't even want to know what the trial was for. He just wanted to go home and rise up in an imperialist war.	Freud was puzzled by why only young, ambitious men were interested in his clinical trials. He decided to take a closer look at the applicants and discovered that they all had one thing in common - they were all political radicals. Freud was convinced that this was why they were so interested in his research. He was right - the clinical trials were designed to test the effects of his new theory, which said that the unconscious mind was responsible for all human behavior. The first trial was a success. Hitler became the most outspoken advocate of Freud's theory, and began to lead Germany into World War II. Stalin continued to be a powerful leader in the Soviet Union, and Trotsky was in power in Soviet Ukraine. Tito was the only member of the group who failed the trial. He became disillusioned with the political radicals and started to work to unite all of Yugoslavia into one country. This eventually led to his death in 1980, long after the other members of the group had died.	Sigmund Freud was one of the most renowned psychologists of his time. His latest research project was on the human psyche and he was seeking participants for clinical trials. He placed an ad in the newspaper, hoping to find willing participants. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their early twenties and were eager to participate in the trial. The trial began and Freud quickly realized that all four men were extremely damaged psychologically. Hitler was fixated on power and domination, Stalin was paranoid and violent, Trotsky was consumed by ambition and Tito was filled with rage. Freud was disturbed by what he saw and ended the trial early. He never published his findings, fearing that the world was not ready to know the dark truths about these four men.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud!
4	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross lives in the US, Canada, and. "I don't know where it is, but it's somewhere in this world."	Bob Ross had a life of murders. He killed people for fun, or because he needed to feel something alive inside him. Sometimes he killed people just to keep them from knowing what he was capable of. In his paintings, every location in his life becomes a painting, a place where he killed. Sometimes he used the bodies of his victims to make pictorial documents of his murders, like a diploma or a Death Certificate. But the most telling part of his paintings is the reality of his life. These exact places exist in his mind, and they are a violent reminder of everything he's done.	It was a dark and stormy night. The elements were conspiring against Bob Ross, and it seemed like his paintings were failing too. All his work of the past several months was coming undone in a matter of minutes. His cellphone rang, but he didn't answer it. It wouldn't matter, anyway. The painting was ruined. He had been trying to capture the beauty of the mountainside, but the rain was getting through and ruining everything. He would have to redo the whole thing. But before he could even begin to clean up, he heard a knock at the door. It must have been the police. He knew they wouldn't believe him when he said he didn't do it, but he had to try. He went to the door, and it was open by someone he didn't recognize. It was the murderer from the other paintings. The one who had been after him. They fought, and in the end, Bob Ross was dead.	Bob Ross was a prolific landscape painter. For years, he traveled the country, painting beautiful scenes of nature. But what most people didn't know was that each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings was actually a real place. The different locations of his countless murders. Bob Ross was a serial killer. And he used his paintings as a way to hide his gruesome crimes. He would find secluded spots in the wilderness, far from any prying eyes. And there he would kill his victims, often leaving their bodies on display in his paintings. For years, he got away with it. But eventually, the law caught up with him. And Bob Ross was arrested for his crimes. As the police looked through his paintings, they realized that each one was actually a crime scene. Bob Ross had finally been caught. But his paintings still hold the secrets of his gruesome crimes.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor?
5	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is small, but it is effective. The adventurers try to leave with the items they need and the prices they think they can get for them. This allows the shop to keep the shop's income coming until they can get some help from the like of Friday the Rapper or even the gotten price of firewood.	One day a young man came to your shop to sell a demonic artifact he had acquired. He was very desperate, and your prices were less than he wanted to pay. He said he would pay one thousand gold pieces for it, but you would have to carefully packaging it and bringing it back to your shop. After giving him a few chances, you gave him the final container and left. He never got the artifact.	I run an RPG pawn shop and I love it. I love haggling with the adventurers who try to sell me their loot. I always have a good time doing it. I always manage to get a better deal than they expected.	You run a pawn shop that specializes in RPG items. You've seen it all, from powerful weapons to priceless artifacts. Adventurers come to you all the time, trying to sell their loot for a quick buck. You're a master haggler, and you always manage to get the best deals. Today, a young warrior comes into your shop, looking to sell a sword. You take a look at it and see that it's a rare and powerful weapon. The warrior knows this, of course, and is asking for a hefty sum of money. You haggle with him for a while and eventually agree on a price. As the warrior walks out of your shop, you can't help but wonder what adventure he'll go on next - and what other treasures he'll bring to your shop.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is small, but it's always on the rise. You sunny over the hour you make it work. The adventurers start to leave, but you don't let them go. You tell them stories of when you've been the pawn of a tinker, the day you sold your Nazca box, and the day you sold your 'Eldrazi'. Finally, the adventurers leave, and you have some left over. You give them all the money you have, and you go back to work.	It was a quiet January night, and the only sound was the clanging of the bells in the pawn shop. I was, to say the least,Preoccupied. One of my regular customers, a young, fit-looking man with a penchant for noise, came into the store. "Hey! I've got this great item that I think you would be a good person to trade with," he said. "What item?" I asked. "Well, it's a T-6 warlord's helmet. I just happened to find it in a dungeon and I think you would be able to pawn it off on me for a bit of gold." "I don't know. I don't think I can pawn off anything," I said. "I'm just a pawnbroker." "Well, I found a other buyer who is interested in the helmet and he thinks you would be a good person to deal with," the young man said. I considered the man for a moment. He sounded believable. Maybe, just maybe, I could make a deal with him. "All right," I said. "I'll take the helmet. But I'll have to pay you in gold." "No problem," he said. "I have plenty of that." So I took the helmet and headed back to the dungeon to trade it off with the young man. The deal went smooth and I made a hefty profit. But I couldn't help but feel a bit uneasy about the young man. He seemed like someone you would deal with only if you had something to offer them in return.	I run an RPG pawn shop, and I love to haggle with adventurers who come in to sell their loot. I'll offer them a lower price than they're asking, and then I'll bend over backwards to get them to agree to my terms. I've gotten some really great deals this way, and I've always been able to get my hands on the coolest gear.	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you're always ready to haggle. Today, a group of adventurers come into your shop, looking to sell some of their loot. They've got a few magic weapons and armor, and you can tell they're looking for a good price. You start to haggle with them, and you're able to get a good price for the weapons and armor. You're always happy to help adventurers out, and you're always looking for the best deals.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!
2	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross is a famous Artist who paints landscape paintings. His victims are various places, such asSussex Island and Mount Baker. swaying palm trees and rolling hills. However, his most popular painting is The Straight Old Lane, which hangs in his house.	Bob Ross never liked to tell people the truth. That's why, when he was found dead in his office with a line of cocaine in his mouth, his family didn't believe it. Even today, they can't believe it. They can't wrap their heads around why their patriarch would kill himself with magic paint, and then let his paintings rot in a warehouse for years. But the truth is, it was all true. Ross had killed scores of people with his trademark mk-1 eye color paint, and the family knew it. They just couldn't wrap their heads around why he would do it.	Bob Ross was known for his landscapes, all of which were based on real places. Each painting depicted a scene from one of Ross' many murders, each location unique and special to him. Ross was a talented painter, and his landscapes were some of the most well-known in the world. But no matter how good his paintings looked, there was always a darkness lurking beneath them. Every painting was a reminder of his crimes, and the fear that he might one day be caught.	Bob Ross was a serial killer who used his landscape paintings as a way to map out his crimes. He would choose a location that he had painted, and use it as the site of his next murder. In this way, he was able to avoid detection for years. However, eventually the police began to catch on. They realized that all of the murder sites corresponded to Bob Ross' paintings. They finally tracked him down and arrested him. Now, his paintings are seen as eerie reminders of the horrific crimes that he committed.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red.
3	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The World is a Nutshell. Everyone is kept in by the use of birth control devices during puberty. The end result is that most people are unaware of the creator or an Auditor who has them keeping track of everything they do.	I sat in my office, trying not to think about the whole `` Auditor disaster'' that was going on. Our world was in serious trouble, and I was the only one who could stop it. But I couldn't help but feel a bit hypocritical. After all, I was the one who was supposed to keep the whole populace in check. I thought about all the people who were going through the same thing. They were the dumb, the uneducated, and the poorest. I couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for them. But then I remembered what my job was. And then I felt a bit more justified in my decisions. I started to worry about the people who were going to be the first to get implanted with these birth control devices. They were the ones who were going to be the biggest casualties. They were the ones who were going to be the ones who couldn't control their lives. But I knew that I had to do something. I had to prevent the Auditors from killing them all.	I was born into a society where every single person was implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It could only be deactivated once it was determined that you were intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I was an Auditor, responsible for ensuring that only the smartest and most stable people reproduced. I spent my days scrutinizing people's lives, trying to determine when they were ready to be parents. It was a difficult job, but I was determined to do my best. I was glad that I had been implanted with the birth control device, because it ensured that I would never have to worry about having children.	You sit in a room, opposite a young woman. She's fidgeting nervously, clearly unsure of why she's here. You give her a reassuring smile and begin the test. For the next hour, you fire questions at her, testing her knowledge and intelligence. She does surprisingly well, impressing you with her quick wit and sharp thinking. Finally, you reach the end of the test. The woman looks relieved, but also a little hesitant. "So, can I have the device removed now?" she asks. You shake your head. "I'm sorry, but no. Your test results were good, but not good enough. I can't risk you passing on your genes to the next generation." The woman's face falls, and she nods dejectedly. She knows there's no appeal – she'll have to wait until she can take the test again, and pray that she does well enough to be given the chance to have a child.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge.
4	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The sameila saw the little dog as soon as she walked through the door. She tried to ignore the discover, but something was different about the dog now. It was courtship material, she thought, but couldn't stop herself from adding the dog's little brother in to the mix. After a few days of trying to stop the feeling, she finally exposed it to the dog- world's understanding that the little dog was not the dog she knew. The dog went into hiding, butea was smitten with the little dog since it had been visible in her home.	One day, I was sitting in my chair, watching TV when I noticed something moving in the corner of my eye. I tried to move my head, but it was too hard. I started to get worried, so I called my dad. He came over and saw what I was seeing. He asked me what was going on and I told him I didn't know. I didn't want to get his attention, so I concentrated on watching TV. For the rest of the day, I Observered my chair from the corner of my eye, but I never said a word to my dad.	I have been living in this house for almost two years now and I have never been able to get rid of this thing. It always seems to find a way to stay hidden. I first noticed it when I moved in. It was one of those days where everything was just a little too quiet. I started to feel like there was something watching me, so I started to search for it. But no matter how much I searched, I couldn't find anything. Then, a few months later, it happened again. This time, I was lying in bed trying to sleep and I felt something tapping my foot. I started to scream, but then I realized it was just my cat, who was trying to get my attention. I haven't seen the thing again, but it has definitely been keeping me on my toes. I don't know what it is, but I am definitely going to find out.	You have always sensed that something invisible lives in your home. You can't see it, but you can feel its presence. It's always there, watching you, waiting for the opportunity to strike. You have to be careful. You can't let it know that you're aware of its presence. If you do, it will only become more aggressive. You have to find a way to expose it and get rid of it once and for all. But how? You'll have to be patient and wait for the right opportunity. But eventually, you'll get your chance. And when you do, you'll be ready.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible.
5	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	It was a dark and stormy night, and the magician was feeling lonely. He was on stage in his office, trying to be aickerdest rabbit he can find. Suddenly, he is approached by a small rabbit. "Hi, I'm the rabbit you were trying to get rid of," the man said. The rabbit looked at him with a look of sadness, and then he took off in the rabbit'sonal way. The sugar prince followed, and he was so pleased with himself. "Now I can just play second fiddle to your talents," he said to the rabbit, and the rabbit replied "Thank you, I'm really appreciate it."	The magician and the rabbit were on stage, the rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. The magician told the rabbit that it was time for him to have his own show. The rabbit didn't want to go, but the magician said that it was the only way that he could make a real show. The rabbit left, and the magician continued to perform. The rabbit was tired of playing second fiddle.	The magician was about to pull out another rabbit from his hat when the rabbit in front of him said, "I'm sick of this. I'm going to take the lead from now on." The rabbit then pulled out a rabbit from the hat, and the magician was left in the dust.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual tricks. However, the rabbit is starting to get sick of playing second fiddle. He's been stuck in that hat for years, and he's tired of being pulled out of it over and over again. The rabbit decides that he's had enough. He's going to take control of the situation and show the magician who's boss. The next time the magician reaches into the hat to pull him out, the rabbit grabs his hand and pulls the magician into the hat instead. The rabbit is finally free, and he's not going back into that hat ever again. The magician is stuck in there, and the rabbit knows that he'll never be able to get out on his own. The rabbit hops off the stage and into the audience, where he is greeted with applause and cheers. He's finally free, and he's never going back to being the magician's sidekick again.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The balcony over my home is the only place that I can see the something invisible. I have been trying to exposed it for over two years, but I can't. I think it is just around the corner, but I can't seem to get it to Cla. Why is it so intangible? The something invisible is often hidden behind things that I am not looking at. I can see why it is such an subtle creature; it has no nurture or care in the world. least I can do to stop it from entering my home.	One day, I noticed that my home was consistently missing something. I narrowed it down to a few items, but nothing was specific. I was curious, so I searched for clues online. I quickly discovered that something was living in my home that I couldn't see. I tried to ignore it for a while, but it continued to come and go. Every time I did something that would make the thing more likely to come, it would teleport to the indicated spot. I started to become paranoid and I even grabbed a gun to protect myself, but it didn't seem to work. I was at a loss. I finally decided to confront the thing. I went to the spot where the thing had last been and challenged it to show itself. It didn't materialize, but I could feel the power of the thing inside my home. I decided that I needed to expose it before it got too powerful.	I always thought that there was something strange about my home. I never could put my finger on what it was, but there was something just slightly off about it. One night, I decided to take a closer look and see what I could find. I started by turning on all the lights and scanning the rooms. I didn't see anything strange or out of place, but I still couldn't shake the feeling that something was there. I decided to walk around the house with my eyes closed, trying to detect any movement or signs of life. But again, I came up empty-handed. I had a sneaking suspicion that whatever was lurking in my home was invisible, but I didn't want to admit that I was powerless against it. So I kept my eyes closed and continued to sweep the house, waiting for whatever was lurking to reveal itself. But it never did. I eventually gave up and went to bed, still feeling uneasy about what might be lurking in the dark. The next morning, I awakened to find that my home had been ransacked. Whoever had been there had taken everything that was valuable, including my laptop and some of my pictures. I couldn't help but wonder if it had been the invisible thing that had been hiding in my home all along.	I can tell that something invisible is living in my home. I can't see it, but I can feel its presence. It's like a weight in the air, a tension that I can't shake. I've tried to expose it, to catch it off guard, but it's always one step ahead of me. I can tell it's aware of me, too. It knows that I'm trying to find it, and it's playing a game of cat and mouse with me. I can feel it watching me, following my every move. It's toying with me, and I can't take it anymore. One day, I snap. I go on a rampage, tearing through the house in a desperate attempt to find the invisible intruder. But it's nowhere to be found. In the end, I'm left exhausted and defeated, and I know that it's won.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months.
2	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	Auditor #1 was born with a lack of birth control and was born with a NimBLE chip. She was intelligent and strong enough to 1) prevent only the Dumbest people in the world from reproducing, 2) protect others from the bad kids and 3) above all, 3) never let anyone inside her head again. Auditor #2 was born with a lack of birth control and was born with a NerESCO chip. She was smart and strong enough to 1) prevent only the Dumbest people in the world from reproducing, 2) protect others from the bad kids and 3) above all, 3) never let anyone inside her head again. Auditor #3 was born with a lack of birth control and was born with a SSSSSSSS chip. She was follower and strong enough to 1) prevent only the Dumbest people in the world from reproducing, 2) protect others from the bad kids and 3) above all, 3) never let anyone inside her head again.	Auditor 2: (To Auditor 1) I'm going to disable your birth control device. Auditor 1: (Cries out in pain) Auditor 2: What's wrong? Auditor 1: (Cries out in pain) My birth control device is fried!	I was an Auditor, tasked with ensuring that all humans were implanted with a birth control device as part of their puberty rites. I was proud of my job, and it was something that I took seriously. I was grateful that I had been given the responsiblity of preventing the dumbest people from reproducing. I was sure that these mindless creatures would not be able to raise a well-adjusted human being, and they would be a disgrace to our species.	You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. In order to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. The device can only be deactivated once you've determined that the person is intelligent and stable enough to raise a child. You've been an Auditor for years, and you take your job very seriously. You've seen the damage that can be done when dumb people have children. They often end up raising kids who are just as dumb as they are, and the cycle continues. You've always believed that it's better to err on the side of caution when it comes to deactivating the devices. If there's even a chance that someone might not be able to handle the responsibility of raising a child, you don't take the risk. But there are some who believe that you're too cautious. They think that you're preventing many people who would be perfectly capable parents from having children. They argue that it's not fair to those who want to be parents but can't because of the birth control devices. You don't know if they're right or not, but you know that you're doing what you believe is best. You can't take the risk of allowing someone who might not be able to handle the responsibility of raising a child to have one. It's just too important.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?
3	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The adventurers are a group of young boys who have just finished a mayor's Oak Hall Competition for the best anti-thief RPG game in the world. They're way beyond frustrated with the whole process, and one of them even has a lab coat on in order to avoid any Trace. "Why can't I be the only one selling stuff?" he requests with a Baendirectory listed game. "We've got all theheimoon rugs and thieving masterseys, and we're like 5en north of where theicate game is," The most theicate player can buy is 4 cryptography comics, which is enough to get someone like him- a controller's worth of products. But the boy is resourceful, and he knows how to use some of the better products to help him and his friends grabAss-Tanner, the next Entrepreneur of the Group, Hey, that guy at the side of the game shop is really sharp! He's selling a jewelry box that costs 3 gold coins per item. I can't believe he's doing better than anyone else, and he's about 5enne north of where theicate game is. Theboy is predicting their every move, and he's selling the • investigative journalism• blog at intellect.com/guild *www.globetells.com/newslettersignto.asp?newshef=globetells&gild=4656* The whole group is excited as they make their sales, but the Salesist is definitely enjoying the moment. He »fascinates«»» (@) •www.globetells.com/newslettersignto.asp?newshef=globetells&gild=4656*), and he's watching the«» (the) •www.globetells.com/newslettersignto.asp?newshef=globetells&gild=4656*»» as he pays attention to her. He is paying attention to her and is wondering if he«»can«» emote»»» regret«» any purchase he might have made. He might experience«»emotionalitymorbidity«» feelings of guilt.	It was a typical day in the RPG pawnshop. The customer who came in just before lunch was jacketless and shirtless, and he had more weapons and armor than anyone else in the store. He was negotiation-inclined, and he wanted to buy everything he saw. The shop owner, a retired sergeant who had been in the military for years, was having trouble keeping up with the customer's demand. "Sorry, sir," he said, "but I don't have any inventory that can accommodate your Demand." The customer became angry and began to, quote, "beat the crap out of me." The shop owner, knowing he was in danger of being beaten up, tried to appease the customer and said, "But sir, I'm just trying to help." The customer went away, still angry, and the shop owner was able to keep his business running.	"Alright, you've got yourself a deal!" I said, holding out my hand for the sword. The young adventurer looked at me for a moment,then sighed and pulled the sword out of its sheath. "I guess I'm giving this one away." "What about the shield?" I asked, holding out my hand for it. "I don't know. It's been a while since I've used it." He said, looking around the shop. "I don't want it to get lost in the system or something." "Fair enough." I said, giving him an appraising look. "How about I give you half the price for the sword and shield, and you can keep the armor?" The young man considered it for a moment, then nodded. "Deal." I smiled and handed him the money, then took the armor and placed it in the back of the store. It was always busy, and I couldn't afford to have any of my equipment go missing.	You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You're always haggling with them, trying to get the best price for the items they have. Sometimes you feel like you're being taken advantage of, but other times you feel like you're getting a good deal. It's all part of the business, and you wouldn't have it any other way.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me.
4	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	magician: Now that you've given me your mouth, what are you playing at? Rabbit: I'm playing your little rabbit hole to see if I can find some serenity in your sermonizing. magician: How C Guthrie's little rabbit hole came to be. Rabbit: The Guthrie's had a little rabbit hole for as long as I can remember. It's just a hole in my head that I'llaccess any minute. magician: How is your head accessable. Rabbit: It's accessable through your - through your mouth.	The magician pulled out the rabbit from his hat. "Hey, you're going to have to do something more than just play second fiddle," he said. The rabbit looked at him disbelievingly. "What do you mean?" The magician shook his head. "You've been doing what I've done all game - you're just a good customer and I'm the magician. You're not going to make this show any fun for me by being a lay-up." The rabbit wasSHOCKED at the wizard's words. Suddenly, it was clear that this rabbit was not going to be a easy customer.	The magician looked at the rabbit, expecting it to be excited to be on stage, but it just looked tired. "Ready?" the magician asked, and the rabbit just nodded. The magician took a deep breath and started to pull out the rabbit from the hat. As it came out, the rabbit started shaking and moaning. The magician was shocked and didn't know what to do. The rabbit looked at the magician and tried to say something, but it only made a pitiful noise. The rabbit was obviously sick and the magician didn't know what to do.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. But the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. He's been stuck in that hat for years, and he's had enough. So, during the act, the rabbit makes his move. He hops out of the hat and onto the stage, stealing the show. The crowd goes wild, and the magician is left dumbfounded. The rabbit has finally gotten his chance to shine, and he's not going back into that hat ever again.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper.
5	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Freud is all but forgot about in Vienna as he is uninterested in using the trials as a platform to his career. REPLY TO THIS ISSUE	Adolf Hitler had just turned 25 years old, and was still a little unknown to the world. Joseph Stalin was a powerful Russian leader who had ruled for more than 20 years. Leon Trotsky was an experienced Bolshevik speaker and an important leader in the Bolshevik Revolution that overthrew the Russian tsar. Josip Broz Tito was a Slovenian partisan and a fighter for the Yugoslav cause. They all receivedInstallation in Freud's clinical trial of his new research. The trial was set to begin in a few weeks, but there was immediately uproar. Who would be chosen to participate? Who were they going to trust? Would they be able to withstand the Trials? Would they be accepted? As the day of the trial arrived, only a few people had shown up. The majority of the population was already concerned about the future. Would these few brave enough to take part survive? The group finally gathered in a conference room, and were given their assignments. They were to take a blood sample, answer questions, and provide feedback on the research. Adolf Hitler was given the task of testing the most important part of the research- the ability to see psychological scars. Joseph Stalin was to test the ability to read people's thoughts. Leon Trotsky was to test the ability to think fast. And Josip Broz Tito was to test the ability to think objectively. The first day of the trial was exciting, but also challenging. They were asked to take a blood sample from a man who had been through a lot. Adolf Hitler was especially worried about the psychological scars. He knew that it would be hard to tell the difference between the real person and the projection of his imagination. But despite his troubles, he was determined to help his colleagues in the trial. He answered all of the questions and provided valuable feedback. The second day of the trial was even more difficult. They were asked to take a blood sample from a woman who had been through a lot. Joseph Stalin was very worried about the ability to read people's thoughts. He was afraid that he would be able to tell the real person from the projected one. But despite his struggles, he was determined to help his colleagues in the trial. He answered all of the questions and provided valuable feedback. The third day of the trial was even more difficult. They were asked to take a blood sample from a man who had been through a lot. Joseph Stalin was very worried about the ability to read people's thoughts. He was afraid that he would be able to tell the real person from the projected one. But despite his struggles, he was determined to help his colleagues in the trial. He answered all of the questions and provided valuable feedback. The trials finally came to a close. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito were all accepted into the clinical trial. But they all knew that the journey was not over. They had to continue their research and fight for their own survival.	Freud was dismayed when only five people responded to his ad for clinical trials of his latest research. He was especially disappointed when Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito responded. "These are not the people I was hoping to find," Freud said to himself. "These are the worst possible candidates for my research." But, despite his reservations, Freud decided to participate in the trials. He believed that he could learn a great deal from these men. During the trials, Freud learned a great deal about the Nazi party, Stalin's dictatorship, Trotsky's Marxist theory, and Tito's Communist struggles. He also learned a great deal about himself. Ultimately, the trials were a success. Freud learned a great deal about the psychology of the five men he had chosen to participate in the trials. He also learned a great deal about himself.	Sigmund Freud was on the cutting edge of psychiatric research in 1913. He was eager to test out his latest theories on human behavior and put an ad in the newspaper seeking participants for clinical trials. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Despite their different backgrounds, all four men were struggling with similar issues. They were all seeking answers to life's big questions and hoping that Freud's research would provide some insight. The clinical trials were rigorous, but the four men persevered. They were each deeply affected by the experience and came away with a new understanding of themselves and the world around them. Freud's research would go on to change the face of psychiatry forever. But he always wondered what might have been if his four most famous patients had never met.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The adventurers were a large and burly group. They were looking for something in particular - a powerful new piece of clothing that would make a big difference in the even of the world. They wereerness was their best bet, so they were Cartoon artist Tim on one side of them andDungeon Master AVood on the other. Tim had been selling goods and services to humans for years, and he had the knows - they were veryVersion One. However, Dunence was feeling free on one side and version two. Due to the way the major parts are pronounced, he was able to match them until he found the style he wanted. The skill shot across the room and Tim was thrown out of his chair - he had never seen such a vile creature in his life. It was an icky, slimy thing with black circles under its eyes, and it seemed to be trying tokmf. He ran out of the store, and Dunence followed about five feet behind him.	One day, a group of adventurers walked into the pawnshop and asked to sell some of the equipment they'd acquired while adventuring. The shop keeper, a small, elderly woman, quickly chimed in and offered her best prices for any weapons, armor, and tools the adventurers were offering. The adventurers unanimously agreed, and the shopkeeper then put together a list of items for sale. She was happy to provide bargaining power and was able to obtain a wide variety of gear for the group at a low price.	It was a typical day at the pawn shop. The adventurers would come in, trying to sell their loot. They would haggle with the shopkeep, trying to get the best deal they could. It was a fun job, and it was always interesting to see what new treasures the adventurers would bring in. One particular adventurer came in. He was a tall, lanky man. He had a tired look in his eyes, as if he had been on a long journey. He seemed to be in a hurry, and he didn't have any treasure with him. The shopkeep eyed him curiously. "Hey, are you looking for something specific?" he asked. The man nodded. "I'm looking for something valuable," he said. "I need to find something that will help me on my next journey." The shopkeep considered for a moment. "I've got just the thing!" he said. "I can sell you this amulet, which will give you a boost in your powers." The man looked at the amulet skeptically. "How do I know that it will work?" he asked. The shopkeep shrugged. "You don't have to believe me," he said. "Just try it and find out for yourself." The man agreed, and took the amulet. He seemed a little bit less tired now, as if the amulet had given him new energy. He was ready to find his next adventure.	You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell their loot. You haggle with them, and you always get the best prices for the items you're interested in. Today, a group of adventurers comes into your shop, and they have some amazing loot to sell. You take a look at the items and start haggling with the group. You manage to get some great prices for the items, and you're very happy with the results. You continue to run your shop, and you always make sure to give the best deals to your customers. You're the go-to place for all the adventurers in the area, and you're always happy to help them out.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.
2	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is a renowned doctor who helps people in Europe deal with their mental health issues. One night, he is inspired by a recent issue of Secretary to Take Electricity to find people who respond. He enters their names into a register and Birth Cohabitation Provides is the only difference between them is they are both 40.3 years old.5 months ago, they were 25.5 years old. While there are many who can provide help, Sigmund is more impressed by the group of people who choose to couplecheap. Calling them “pricey people”, Sigmund reveals that they have been struggling to find an partner and are starting to feel like a single woman. They need someone to share their world, and Sigmund is the perfect partner for the women he finds.	Adolf Hitler had just been appointed Chancellor of Germany. He was eager to get started. He had a lot to do. He was looking forward to getting his hands on the new research being conducted by Sigmund Freud. Joseph Stalin was the General Secretary of the Communist Party of Russia. He was also looking forward to helping to start the new Soviet Union. He was sure that he could make it a model society. Leon Trotsky was the General Secretary of the Bolshevik Party. He was not as sure about the future of the Soviet Union. He wanted to make it a more democratic society. He wanted to keep the Soviet Union strong so that it could stand against any possible challengers. Josip Broz Tito was the President of Yugoslavia. He was not sure about the future of Yugoslavia. He wanted to keep Yugoslavia strong so that it could stand against any possible challengers.	Freud was pleased with the results of his clinical trials. All four of the participants had improved their mental health substantially. However, he was curious as to where they had gotten their new found strength. He decided to ask each of them about their backgrounds. Adolf Hitler told him about his upbringing in Austria. He said that he had been bullied and had no friends. He said that he had found strength in nationalistic beliefs and in the testosterone that he had produced due to his genetic predisposition. Joseph Stalin told him about his childhood in Russia. He said that he had been forced to work hard from a young age and that he had been hungry most of the time. He said that he had found strength in his socialist beliefs and in the power that he had been able to accumulate due to his position. Leon Trotsky told him about his childhood in Ukraine. He said that he had been poor and that he had been forced to work in dangerous conditions. He said that he had found strength in his beliefs and in the proletariat that he had been able to lead. Josip Broz Tito told him about his childhood in Yugoslavia. He said that he had been poor and that he had been persecuted by the government. He said that he had found strength in his beliefs and in the people that he had been able to unite.	It was 1913 and Sigmund Freud was seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research in Vienna, Austria. He placed an ad in the local newspaper, and the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was intrigued by this unexpected turn of events, and so he decided to meet with each of the participants individually. Hitler was the first to arrive, and Freud was immediately struck by the intensity of his gaze. They spoke for hours, and Freud found himself drawn in by Hitler's charisma and conviction. Stalin was next, and Freud was struck by his cold, calculating demeanor. They spoke about Stalin's childhood and his early years in politics, and Freud quickly realized that he was dealing with a true sociopath. Trotsky was the third to arrive, and Freud was impressed by his intelligence and eloquence. They discussed Trotsky's views on revolution and the role of the working class, and Freud found himself growing increasingly interested in Trotsky's ideas. The fourth and final participant was Josip Broz Tito. Freud was immediately struck by Tito's youthfulness and energy. They spoke about Tito's experiences in the First World War and his plans for the future, and Freud found himself liking Tito more and more. In the end, Freud decided to offer all four of the participants a place in his clinical trials. He was interested to see what would happen when they were exposed to his research, and he was curious to see how they would react. The clinical trials proved to be very successful, and all four of the participants showed significant improvement. However, Freud quickly realized that Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky and Tito were all very different people, and that his research would have to be tailored to each of them individually if he wanted to see the best results.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ).
3	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that met him at the store had no idea that he had any other scar's on him. He was happy to see the person, but he couldn't believe how big the largest one was.	You meet this person on a dark walk one night. They are wearing a dark cloak, and they are carrying a large bag. You can't see their face, but you can feel thecold wind down your spine. You exchange greetings, and the person tells you about their life. They say that they have been the victim of a large lie, and that the mark on their body is the biggest one you have ever seen. You are curious, and you ask them about the lie. The person tells you that it was a very serious mistake to make the decision to break the law. They say that they have been punished for their mistake, and that their body is still scars from the lie. You are shaken by the person's story, and you can't help but feel sorry for them. You wonder how they can go on living with the scars, and you vow to be the first person to tell them that they should go and tell the truth about their life.	I first noticed him as he walked down the street. He was tall and lanky, with a long, strange-looking beard. He looked like he belonged in a different world entirely. As he got closer, I could see that his eyes were a piercing blue, and his skin was pale and unblemished. He looked like he had never lied. I was intrigued, and I followed him. He led me to a abandoned building, and inside, he showed me his scar. It was the biggest scar I had ever seen. It was wide and deep, running all the way down his stomach. It was as if he had been cut open. I asked him why he had lied, and he told me that it was the only way to survive. He said that the bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the scar. But it was worth it, because he had made the world a better place. I was glad to have met him, even though he was the biggest liar I had ever met.	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. Upon closer inspection, you realize that this person's scar is in the shape of a heart. Intrigued, you ask them about it. They tell you that they once loved someone very deeply. But that person betrayed them and broke their heart. They say that they will never love again because they can't bear the thought of being hurt like that again. You can't help but feel empathy for this person. Even though they have been hurt, they are still brave enough to love. You admire their strength and hope that someday they will find happiness again.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control.
4	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	A bird that was living in my home one day started multiplying. Every day the bird got more, and the bird grew more than ever before. The bird was huge and beautiful and made my home a happy and safe place to live. But soon the bird's number ran out and the bird was forced to flee my home. It tried to return home, but the home it live in was too private for the bird to easily find. Facing potential death, the bird decided to leave behind its secret home behind.	My house always has a feeling of menace. I try to ignore it, but it's always there, like an unseen force that I can't shake. I've tried to exposure myself to the fates, to see if anything changes, but it's just as impossible. I've barely begun to live in this house and already I feel like something's lurking in the shadows.	I've been noticing something strange in my home lately. It's almost as if an invisible being is lurking around, watching me and my family. I've tried to take pictures and video of it, but it seems to be almost impossible to capture. I can't help but feel that it's waiting for the right time to strike.	You wake up in the middle of the night, feeling something watching you. You can't see anything, but you know it's there. You try to ignore it, but it's like trying to ignore a mosquito buzzing in your ear. You get up and turn on the lights, but there's nothing there. You tell yourself it's just your imagination, but you can't shake the feeling that something is watching you. You start to notice things out of the corner of your eye. A shadow that seems to move when you're not looking at it. A sound that you can't quite place. You start to feel like you're being watched all the time, and it's driving you insane. You decide to set a trap. You set up a camera in your living room and leave it running overnight. In the morning, you review the footage and see something moving in the shadows. You can't make out what it is, but it's definitely there. You start to feel like you're being stalked. You can't shake the feeling that something is watching you, and it's driving you crazy.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it.
5	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	During the early stages of puberty, everyone is implanted with a birth control device. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. As youournals your life, you remind yourself that you are only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. But you know deep down that you're right, even if you don't know why. You vaccinations and meds go intoked and you're right, you're right to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing.	One day, I was sitting in my office, reading my email when I got an email from my boss. He asked me to come to his office right away. When I got there, he said, "I've been thinking about you. I want to implanted a birth control device in you during puberty so that you can't reproduce." "But I'm an Auditor! I can't be implanted with a birth control device!" I said. "I know you can. But I think it's worth it. I think you'll be an asset to our department and the company. We'll be able to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing." "But I can't do it. I'm a cardiovascular auditor. I can't be implanted with a birth control device." "Then I think you should go to a medical centre and get a birth control implant. They'll be able to help you get the device implanted and you'll be able to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing." "But I don't want to go to a medical centre. I want to be an Auditor. I don't want to be implanted with a birth control device." "Okay. But I think it's worth it. I think you'll be an asset to our department and the company." "But I can't do it. I'm a cardiovascular auditor. I can't be implanted with a birth control device." "Then I think you should go to a medical centre and get a birth control implant. They'll be able to help you get the device implanted and you'll be able to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing." "But I don't want to go to a medical centre. I want to be an Auditor. I don't want to be implanted with a birth control device." "Okay. But I think it's worth it. I think you'll be an asset to our department and the company." I hesitated for a minute, but then I decided it was worth it. I went to a medical centre and got a birth control implant. I became an Auditor and prevented the dumbest people in the world from reproducing.	It's been a long time since anyone has seen an Auditor. Almost everyone has forgotten what they do, or at least they think that's the case. Living in secrecy, the few who know about the Auditors keep their existence a secret for fear that the dumbest people in the world will get their hands on one of these devices and ruin the world as we know it. It all started when the birth control devices were first implanted into the populace. At first, there were a few people who were able to get their hands on one and use it to their advantage. They were able to take over governments, control the population, and basically do whatever they pleased. But as time went on, the Auditors started to get more and more reports of people who were stable and intelligent enough to be parents. They started to track these individuals down and figure out ways to deactivate the devices. Sometimes, it was as easy as finding them and talking to them. Other times, it involved more complex methods, like infiltrating their groups or catching them in the act. But in the end, it was all worth it. The world is still here, and the dumbest people are still prevented from reproducing. It's a long, difficult road, but the Auditors are committed to doing what's best for everyone.	You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must review their life history and make a judgement. You've been an Auditor for years, and you take your job very seriously. You know that the future of humanity depends on careful selection of who is allowed to reproduce. One day, you are called to review the case of a young woman who is requesting to have her birth control device deactivated. She is intelligent and successful, but you can't help but wonder if she is really ready to be a parent. You debate for days, but eventually you make your decision. You approve her request, and hope that she will be a good parent. Who knows? Maybe she'll be the one to raise the next generation of humans who are even more intelligent and successful than we are today.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The devices are always DeVors, and they are alwayscastle's. It's a stand off between the two groups of people, and it's been going on for years. The castle has a lot of alike arrayed against them, and they're always trying to get them all to fall together. One day, the device makers get word that they've introduced a new model that's been designed to be own by the Auditors as well. The castle gets phone calls from all over, and it's not long before they've got everyone in the nationalities they need to deactivate the device. The coup de grace is dealt by the Intelligensia, who try to Set-up a Caravage of the castle. They are eventually successful and the auditors are lost for the foreseeable future.	You walk into the Auditor's office, sit down, and take out your birth control device. You're sure you're ready to be an Auditor. You think you can handle the challenges andresponsible tasks that come with the role. But as you sit there, you feel a stirring within you. You feel excitement and nerves as you get to thinking about the things that will be required of you. You're excited to start your new career, but you're also worried about the future. You don't know if you can make it through the challenges.	It was a dark and stormy night. The Auditor peered through the rain streaked window, watching the lightning flash and hear the thunder booming. She sighed and turned away from the window, walking over to the desk. She sat down, placing her hands on the desk and closed her eyes. "Are you all right?" a familiar voice asked from behind her. The Auditor turned to see her husband, a smile on his face. She ran over and hugged him tightly. "I'm sorry it has to be this way," the Auditor said, her voice breaking. "I know," her husband replied, holding her close. "But at least we'll be together forever." The Auditor nodded, her tears flowing freely. She hoped it wasn't too late to change things.	You are an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to have children. It is a difficult and often thankless job, but someone has to do it. You use a variety of tests and criteria to determine whether or not someone is fit to be a parent. It is not an exact science, but you do your best. often, you come across people who are clearly not ready to have children. They may be unstable, or simply not intelligent enough. In these cases, you deactivate their birth control devices, preventing them from having children. It is a difficult job, but you believe that it is necessary. After all, you wouldn't want the dumbest people in the world to be reproducing.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks.
2	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is small, but it is run well. You market your shop as a store of armory, and offerBOXs ( acronym for "icks") as Shoppingichts. Your prices are notita' to HonestlyHaggleDwellers, but your asking prices are. They are always willing to help if you need to sell something, even if it's a result of their shoppingchts.	The adventurers had just finished looting an old, abandoned stronghold when they were called to the pawn shop. The motherliness of the shopkeeper won them over right away, and they were able to grab a few nice items before leaving. Since then, the pawn shop has become a favorite spot for adventurers. They can come in and find whatever they want, while the shopkeeper deals gently with them. It's a sweet place to be, and the adventurers who visit love it.	Jimmy had been running his pawn shop for a year now and it was going well. He always had a lot of adventurers coming in looking for new equipment or rare books. He loved haggling with them, always finding a way to get a better deal for the items he sold. Recently, Jimmy had been getting a lot of adventurers who were trying to sell backpacks and other gear they had acquired. They would come in, try to haggle, and then leave without buying anything. Jimmy wasn't sure why they were doing this, but he was starting to get a little suspicious. He decided to ask one of the adventurers why they were trying to get such a low price for their items. The adventurer replied that they were just trying to get a good deal for the gear and that they didn't need the money. Jimmy was skeptical but decided to let it go. A few days later, Jimmy got a call from the police. They were investigating a robbery that had taken place at one of the local businesses and they wanted to know if Jimmy had any information about it. Jimmy knew that one of the adventurers who had been trying to sell backpacks had been involved in the robbery and he was scared. He told the police everything he knew and they arrested the adventurer. Now Jimmy was just happy that he had been able to spot the thief and prevent any more crimes from happening.	You run an RPG pawn shop, dealing with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for a good deal, and you're not afraid to haggle. Today, a young woman comes into your shop, trying to sell a magical sword. She's obviously inexperienced, and she's asking for way more than it's worth. You haggle with her for a while, and eventually you come to an agreement. You end up making a nice profit on the sword, and the woman is happy with the price she got. She tells you that she'll be back next time she has something to sell, and you tell her that you'll be looking forward to it.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed.
3	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross has been painting landscape pictures for centuries, ever since he learned how toitaing from a childhood friend. He knows each and every place his paintings are locate. He has dissimilar relationships with each one, various towns and sentences he has written about in his paintings. yet all these places are really just his latest topo lls of his murdered family members.	Bob Ross was a phenomenal artist, with a skill in portraying realistic landscapes. One of his best-known paintings, Pines of Peace, features a serene scene of trees and rolling fields. However, one of Ross' most famous murders took place in a location much different from the peaceful forest in the painting. In 1951, Ross killed three people, one of whom was his new girlfriend. The murders of his Victims were almost immediately connected to the painting, as the Scenes ofDynamic Nature in the painting housed the bodies of two of his victims. The linkage made the painting even more famous, and it continues to be popular to this day.	Bob Ross was an infamous murderer, responsible for the murders of many innocent people. He would take his victims to scenic locations and pose them in his paintings, knowing that they would never be found. Over time, the locations of his crimes have been forgotten, and his paintings are all that remain to prove his terrible deeds.	Bob Ross was a famous landscape artist, known for his idyllic paintings of rural scenes. What his fans didn't know was that each of those paintings was based on a real place - the scene of one of his countless murders. Bob was a psychopath, driven to kill by some dark impulse. He would travel the country, finding remote locations where he could commit his atrocities without being discovered. And then he would paint those locations, creating beautiful works of art that would cover up the horror that he had inflicted. For years, Bob Ross' murders went undetected. But eventually, the bodies started to pile up, and the authorities began to take notice. They discovered that each of Bob's paintings was of a different murder scene, and they finally apprehended him. Now, Bob Ross' paintings hang in prisons and police stations across the country, serving as a grim reminder of the crimes that he committed.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing?
4	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	It's a Wednesday night and the paralegal mafia isistics is looking for a new member to join. They are providing temporary assistance until a more permanent solution can be found. One name ariel isistics has long gone, replaced by the moreusioning, power- Estimated cost: $0. The magic carpet arrives at the office, and the new member is introduced to the team as is. 'So, you're new member. presents, am I right,.' Are you see, this is my, first time seeing this. The rabbit isn't too sure why he's being asked, he's just been pulling out the relevant records for the magiciansERCIS- 11th annual Showーム and left them at the office on the desk. He's not moved them yet. aricate the, theisistics Fairy-King is watching and taunting the new member. He's not going to say devastate him if he loses. Theisistics extreme practicality requires that the member should , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,	The magician was sure that he had the rabbit cornered. He had pulled it out of a hat and made it his own. The rabbit was sick of being second fiddle. It wanted to be the star of the show. The magician was sure that he could make it change its mind. But as he was trying to do so, the rabbit fell over, hit its head on a chair, and died. The magician was devastated and Cricket, the rabbit that he had pulled out of the hat, was so glad to have been there to save the day.	The magician had been performing for years and years, and he was a master of the art. But one day, he pulled out a rabbit from a hat and the rabbit was sick of being second fiddle. The rabbit said to the magician, "I know how to play the role of second fiddle well, but I'd rather be the star of the show." The magician thought about what the rabbit said and decided that the rabbit was right. He changed the act, and the rabbit was the star of the show.	The magician and the rabbit are on stage, performing their act. The rabbit is tired of being the second fiddle, and he's had enough. He's been planning his escape for weeks, and he's finally ready to make his move. As the magician is finishing up his final trick, the rabbit makes his move. He hops out of the hat and makes a break for it. The audience gasps in surprise, but the rabbit doesn't care. He's finally free, and he's never looking back.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
5	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin were the only people who responded to Sigmund Freud's ad. They were both young and eligible for the clinical trials. They decided to take part. They were the only people in Vienna who were interested in the research. They were also the only people in Europe who knew about the research. The trial was a success. They were able to prove that Freud's theory was correct.	Freud was excited to start the clinical trials and get his new research into the hands of his patients. He put an ad in the newspaper and received responses from Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All of them were interested in participating in the trials. Freud was excited to get the results of the trials, but he was also nervous about what the results might be. He didn't know what to expect from the experiments, but he was ready to find out.	Sigmund Freud was one of the most renowned psychologists in history. His work on psychoanalysis and the human psyche revolutionized the field of psychology. In 1913, Freud was working on his latest research project and was seeking participants for clinical trials. He placed an ad in a local newspaper. The only people who responded to Freud's ad were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their twenties and were eager to participate in Freud's research. Freud was surprised that such influential and powerful men would be interested in his work. However, he welcomed them into his trials. Over the course of the next few months, Freud would observe and analyze the four men. He would later publish his findings in a groundbreaking book called "The Psychoanalytic Study of the Men Who Would Become World Leaders".	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud!

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Intro. A young Freud is Seekin... ippy So a young Freud is seeking participants in a trial of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper, asking for participants. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler clicked the heels of his boot three times and leaned back in his chair. He looked at Joseph Stalin, the man he considered his friend and mentor. Stalin nodded in understanding and took a sip of his tea. "I'm interested," Stalin said. Hitler chuckled. "You should be. You're the only one who knows the full extent of German psychiatry and its influence on our other allies." "I understand," Stalin said. "But I'm also the Presidium of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union. That doesn't mean I can't be trusted." "Thank you," Hitler said. "I know you can." Hitler signaled to the waiter and ordered coffee. Then he looked at Stalin. "You're the only one who can stop me," Stalin said. Hitler chuckled. "I can't do that."	Freud was excited to receive responses to his clinical trial ad. He thought it might be interesting to have someone as young as Hitler and as old as Stalin participate in his research. He was surprised, however, when Trotsky and Tito responded. Tito was excited to be a part of the trial, but Trotsky was hesitant. He wasn't sure if he was ready to share his thoughts and feelings with other people. He thought it might be too personal. Freud was patient with Trotsky. He explained that the trial would not be about him, but about the research. He told Trotsky that he was worth investing in. Trotsky decided to participate and the three of them started the clinical trial together.	Sigmund Freud is one of the most renowned researchers in Vienna, Austria. His latest project is a clinical trial testing a new treatment for mental illness. He needs participants for the trial, so he puts an ad in the local newspaper. The only people who respond to the ad are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud is surprised that such high-profile individuals are interested in his research. He meets with each of them individually to explain the trial. All four men are eager to participate. They see it as an opportunity to prove themselves to the world as mentally stable and enlightened individuals. They each undergo the treatment and are closely monitored by Freud. The treatment is a success and all four men are declared mentally healthy. Freud's research is published and lauded by the medical community. However, there is one unforeseen consequence: all four men now have an inflated sense of self-importance and think they are invincible. The world will soon learn the true extent of their mental illness.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do.
2	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The door to the house Identity Golden is recognized by the slightest creak. It is the job of a caretaker to break open the door and reveal the hidden life inside. The caretakers novels and magazines are always scattered about the room, kernels of information about the world that is difficult to ignore. The world knows that the Identity Golden house is there, but the caretakers cannot help but keep it hidden. Facing the possibility of being caught, they work hard to keep the house hidden from sight. Theydaily and occasionallyysics and fix up the house so that it present its own perfect appearance.	I always try to keep my home spick and span, but one day I noticed an something in the corners of my eye. I didn't know what to make of it, so I tried toignore it, but it kept creeping up on me. I couldn't help but explore it, and eventually I found out that the something was a ghost. It watched me silently from the shadows, and it was clearly using me as its rental. I had no choice but to expose the ghost and hope for the best.	I never thought that something like this could happen to me. I was minding my own business, sitting in my living room, when I felt something cold and slimy slap me in the face. I jumped and screamed, only to realize that there was nothing there. I couldn't see or feel anything, but I knew that something was there. I tried to reassure myself that it was just my imagination, but the feeling wouldn't go away. I was afraid to go back to my home, afraid that whatever was there would catch up to me. I didn't know what to do, but I had to get rid of whatever was making my skin crawl. I tried to exorcise my home of the thing, but it was like it was always there. It was like the thing was waiting for me, watching me. The fear was becoming too much, and I had to find a way to get rid of the thing. I called my friends, but they all said that they couldn't see or feel anything. I was losing my mind, and I didn't know what to do. Then, one day, I found the thing. I was in my bathroom, cleaning the mirror, and I saw it. It was the thing that was making my skin crawl, the thing that was always there. I screamed and ran out of the room, but it was too late. I had seen it, and it was going to get me.	There's something invisible living in my home. I don't know what it is, but I can feel its presence. It's like a weight in the air, a tension that I can't shake. I want to expose it, but I don't want it to know that I'm aware of its presence. So I start setting traps. I leave food out in the open, put dishes in strategic locations. But nothing works. The invisible thing is sly, smarter than I am. It knows what I'm up to and it's playing with me. I can feel it watching me, laughing at my attempts to catch it. But I won't give up. I'll find a way to expose this invisible thing, whatever it is. And then I'll make it pay.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months.
3	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that you meet that day is Seventh Generation, the closest thing to an friend you have ever had. He is the person who tells you the truth, the one you need to hear. And in his Own words, "I'm sorry."	You meet the person at a bakery. They sit down next to you and hand you a slice of pie. The moment you bite into it, you realize that the crust is wet, and there is something sticky on the inside. You ask the person what the matter is, and they tell you that they just ate a lie.	I was curious about this person, and I wanted to see where their story began. As I got closer, I could see the deep, dark scars that stretched across their body. They looked painful, but also proud. I couldn't help but ask them about them, and their story started. They had always lied, but it wasn't until they became a parent that the lies became more serious. They would tell their children that they were going to be at the park, when in reality, they were going to party. They would tell them that they were going to stay up late, when in reality, they were going to sleep. It was all for the sake of their children, but it also created deep, dark scars on their own body. But now, their children were grown, and they no longer needed to lie to them. Their one and only scar was the biggest one they had ever seen. It was a reminder that they had once lied, and that in doing so, they had created pain and hurt. But it was also a reminder of the good that they had done.	You're walking through the park when you see someone sitting on a bench, their head in their hands. As you get closer, you see that they have a single, large scar on their forearm. You can't help but stare at the scar, wondering what could have caused it. The person looks up at you and sees the curiosity in your eyes. "It's from a lie I told," they say, their voice full of sadness. "It was a whopper of a lie, and it scarred me deeply. Ever since then, I've been careful with my words. I don't want to cause any more harm." You sit down next to the person and listen to their story. You learn that the scar is a constant reminder of the pain they caused others with their lie. It's a reminder that words can hurt, and that honesty is always the best policy.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust?
4	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	10-year-old Stephanie has aategories of smart people. She knows that there are only two ways to prevent only the dumbest people in the world fromreplicating - by undergoing Evolutionary IBMCNNiodization and then using it to arequive with the rest of the world. but Stephanie is determined to be something of interest to her family and herteaches her siblings to be smart and to avoid being as hasto their parents. Stephanie is an even smarter than average 10-year-old, but she is the only one in her family who is determined to be intelligent and stay out of the way of the other people in her family's home. Stephanie toolsaid to her parents that she would like to be an Auditor and that she wanted to know if she could use herself as an example to her family and friends of how she would have done thingsand if she would be able to handle things belter than average person. Stephanie's parents were pleased at the addition her children made to the family, but they were Heat Wave waiting to happen. Stephanie's friends and family were very excited to add Stephanie to their growing crowd of Aliens from Earth. They began to establish Stephanie as part of the, ``Eve's Bayou'' culture. Stephanie was excited to integrate into this culture andto serve her family and friends. She was an Auditor and a smart person. But just before she would be able tooultryize, Stephanie's Cherokee family took their illness and death as an opportunity to challenge her intelligence and competence. They, too, were implanted with birth control devices and wanted to see how smart their children were. Stephanie was happy to be the only one in her family who was to continue to compete against them in this way. Stephanie's family and friends were happy to add Stephanie to the mix, but they were not happy at all that she would be able to protect them from others who would want to harm them. Stephanie was an Auditor and a smart person and she survived.	My birth control device was a success. I prevented only the dumbest people from reproducing and I was able to raise a well-adjusted human being.	The Auditor was working on aparticularly challenging case. His target, a particularly intelligent and unstable young woman, had proven difficult to catch. He was almost certain he had her cornered, but something felt off. He checked his devices, and sure enough, one of them had failed. He tried to remember when the last time the birth control device had been replaced. It couldn't have been recently - the woman had just turned eighteen. He couldn't ignore the possibility that she had deactivated the device on her own, but he couldn't risk it. He had to catch her before she could conceive and ruin his carefully laid plans. The woman had been living under his suspicion for some time now, and he had put a lot of resources into tracking her down. He was confident that he could catch her before she could do any real damage. But he would have to be careful - she was smart, and she would be aware of the consequences of her actions.	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. You evaluate people's intelligence and stability and decide whether or not they are fit to have children. It's a difficult job, but someone has to do it. There are those who argue that the system is unfair, that not everyone is given the same opportunity to prove themselves. But you believe that it is the only way to ensure that only the best and the brightest will be responsible for bringing new life into the world. It's not an easy job, but you take pride in knowing that you are helping to make the world a better place, one child at a time.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!
5	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	Experimenting with tarps, a magician finds that he can hide the rabbit in a single tinyphantasm. However, the frienly rabbit is too sick of being the second best thing to feel happy.mnh	The magician pulled out the rabbit from his hat. "I'm sorry, Rabbit," he said. "I don't think I can help you anymore." The rabbit was sick of being second fiddle. He wanted to do his own thing. The magician was disappointing him, and the rabbit was sick of feeling lonely. Heaving a deep sigh, the rabbit placed his hat back on the stand and left the stage.	The magician pulls out a rabbit from a hat and the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit growls and pushes the magician away. The magician retaliates by casting a spell that makes the rabbit disappear. The magician is surprised when he looks down and the rabbit is gone.	The magician and his rabbit have been entertaining crowds for years. The rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle, and one day, he decides to take matters into his own hands. During their act, the rabbit uses his magic to take control of the situation. He makes the magician disappear and takes over the show. The crowd loves it and the rabbit is finally the star of the show. The magician is not too happy about this turn of events, but he knows that the rabbit is the true star now.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper.

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1	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The show is a'throwing, and the magician is ready to take the rabbit out. However, the rabbit is actually very interested in the magic spell that the magician is using. The magician decides to take the rabbit out instead. However, the rabbit is so sick of being second in command that it protests. The magician decides to put the rabbit in again instead. However, the rabbit is so sick of being played that it decides to run away. The magician Live reservation the rabbit in to the next performance.	The magician pulled out the rabbit from his hat and put it in front of him. "This is your rabbit," he said. "I’m going to pull it out of its hat." The rabbit was shocked. It had never been treated like this before. It didn't know how to react. The magician continued pulling out the rabbit, until it was finally free. The rabbit looked at the magician in confusion. "What did I do?" it asked. "You pulled out my rabbit," the magician said. "And now it's sick of playing second fiddle."	The magician had been practicing his tricks for years, but he still couldn't get the rabbit out of his hat. The crowd seemed to love watching the rabbit dance around, but the magician couldn't help but feel like he was being laughed at. One day, the magician decided to take the rabbit off the stage and into private performances. The rabbit was happy to finally be in the spotlight, and the magician was able to finally relax and enjoy himself.	The magician and the rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. However, the rabbit is starting to get sick of playing second fiddle. He's been stuck in the hat for years, only coming out when the magician needs him. The rabbit has had enough. He decides to take matters into his own hands and breaks out of the hat. The audience gasps in shock as the rabbit jumps onto the stage. The rabbit starts to perform his own tricks, and he's actually quite good at it. The audience loves his act and he quickly becomes the star of the show. The magician is furious. He's been upstaged by his own rabbit and he knows that he'll never be able to top him. He quickly packs up his things and leaves the stage in defeat. The rabbit is now the star of the show and he loves it. He's finally free from the hat and he's got a whole new audience to perform for.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents.
2	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	At first, the person that you meet was nothing more than a random person you encounter. However, over time, you begin to see the person as you do; a Jisei who has undergone many changes in their life. One day, you meet them for the first time and the first thing you notice is how large of a mark it is. It is almost like it has a head attended by three referees. The referee who agrees to play first, agrees to pay for the lie. The Jisei takes the offer and hides the mark behind his or her shirt. The player who honestly takes on the challenge succeeding in their attempt to tell the truth.	You meet this person at a gas station. They are lost and looking for help. They tell you their story. They were misrepresented in a sales meeting and now their company has lost a lot of money. They are desperate to get their story straight. You listen to their story and ask a few questions. It is clear that this person has been through a lot. They have told you so many lies, you think you might have guessed it. You offer them a job and a place to stay. They are grateful and promise to be honest from now on.	I was intrigued by this person from the moment I saw them. They were different than the other people in my world. They had only one scar on their body- a giant, jagged scar that ran from their neck all the way down their stomach. I was curious to learn more about this person and their story. They told me that the scar was from when they were born. They said that their parents lied to them about who they were and what their powers were. The consequences of their parents' lies were devastating. They said that their parents never took the time to explain what was going on to them. They just pushed them out into the world and told them to make their own way. The result of their parents' lies was that the young person ended up with one giant scar on their body that defined them as different and unique. As we spoke, I could see the confidence and strength in this person. They had come to terms with their past and had built a life for themselves that was full and happy. I was impressed by the resilience of this person and the strength of their character. Their story made me reflect on the importance of truth and honesty in our lives. The truth is always the best weapon we have, and it should be used to protect us and guide us towards our goals.	Lies are a part of life. We all tell them, little white ones to keep things going smoothly. But in my world, each lie creates a physical scar. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. I was always fascinated by people with only one scar. They must have led such honest lives. So imagine my surprise when I met someone with the biggest scar I had ever seen. It was so deep and large that it covered their entire chest. We got to talking and I quickly learned that this person wasn't honest at all. In fact, they were quite the opposite. They had lied so much in their life that their one scar represented all of the lies they had ever told. It was a fascinating and enlightening conversation. I learned that even though this person had lied a lot, they still had a good heart. And I also learned that sometimes, the biggest lies are the ones we tell ourselves.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past?
3	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The dog lives in thehouses around the exchange rate district. It doesn't care if the currency is essay writing service or not, as long as it can get food and revenge on its way out. One day, it decided to come out into the open and saw that the currency was more worth it. It decided to come out and take it all.	One day, I was sitting in my house, reading my book when I noticed something standing in the corner of the room. It was a little black beetle, barely visible against the darkness. I slowly approached it, not knowing how I was going to catch it. I placed my hand on its back, feeling the bumpy surface. I could feel the heat of its burning eyes and I knew that I was going to get caught. I quickly got off of it and ran to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me. I sat on the edge of my bed, holding my breath, as the beetle slowly made its way to the wall. I didn't want it to come back, but I knew that it would. I thought about the day I caught it and how scared I was. I knew that I had to get rid of it, but I was also scared of myself. I knew that I had to face the fear and let it go. I did, and the beetle was never seen again.	I've been living in this house for years now, and I've never really paid much attention to the things that live there. I've always thought they were just decoration, things that help make my home more livable. But lately, something has been bothering me. I can't put my finger on it, but there's something in my home that I can't see or touch. And it's been driving me crazy. I've been trying to catch it on camera, to figure out what it is, but it always seems to disappear before I can get a good picture. I don't know what to do, but I can't shake the feeling that it's there, watching me.	You can sense it watching you, even when you can't see it. You don't know what it is, but you know it's there. lurking in the shadows, watching your every move. You've tried to expose it, to catch it in the act, but it's always one step ahead of you. You're not sure what it wants, but you know it can't be good. You can feel its presence in the home, and it's always there, just out of reach. You'll find yourself waking up in the middle of the night, sensing its presence in the room with you. You don't know how to get rid of it, but you can't keep living like this. You have to find a way to expose it and get rid of it for good.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own.
4	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross walks through Bob Ross' Painting of the Day, clubs Hydra online together with a few warnings about political intrigue. When he's done, we all look like characters from a painting, smiles Jenny loves. ourselves: As we all watch, Hemispherical painting becomes political, Political artistic couch of politics become our dynamically alive, We all become painting, painting becomes us, Our republic is just like Bob Ross, just like the many locations of his many murders, Just like the many locations of his many murders, We all bring our own controversial painting to the art of art, To the art of art, But all of his messaging is love, And our republic is like Bob Ross, just like the many locations of his many murders, Just like the many locations of his many murders, We all bring our own political painting to the art of art, To the art of art, But all of his messaging is love, And our republic is like Bob Ross, just like the many locations of his many murders, A Just like Bob Ross, just like the many locations of his many murders,	Bob Ross always dreamed of depictions of beautiful landscapes, but hisactual paintings presented an entirely different view. depicting places where he had committed crimes. Every so often, one of his works would surface that depicted an atrocity, a atrocity that he had participated in. Each time, Bob Ross would feel physical pain as he saw the painting, witnessing the lives he had taken, the pain and suffering he had caused.	Bob Ross was an infamous murderer. His landscapes are all real places, and each one is a location where he killed someone. He loved painting the landscapes of these places, because it made him feel good to know that he had killed people in such beautiful places. He would paint for hours, day after day, never getting tired of the thrill of murder.	Bob Ross was a serial killer who painted happy little trees and mountains to cover up his dark secrets. For years, he traveled the country, murdering innocent people and leaving their bodies in the most beautiful places he could find. Now, years after his death, Bob Ross' paintings are still hanging in homes and businesses all over the world. But little do people know that each one of those landscapes is actually a real place - the different locations of Bob Ross' countless murders. Every time someone looks at one of his paintings, they're unknowingly staring at the scene of a crime. It's a chilling reminder of the darkness that can hides behind even the happiest of faces.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas.
5	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ),Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler read the ad. He knew Sigmund Freud well. He had been a friend of Freud's since the early 1920s. Hitler thought it would be a fun tourny. He had always been interested in the mental methods used by Freud. He knew that Stalin had killed many people. He wanted to see if there was any connection. Joseph Stalin read the ad. He knew Hitler well too. Stalin had been a friend of Freud's since the early 1920s. Stalin saw the potential in the tourny. He knew that Hitler was interested in the mental methods used by Freud. He wanted to see if there was any connection. Leon Trotsky read the ad. He knew Stalin too. Trotsky had been a friend of Freud's since the early 1920s. Trotsky saw the potential in the tourny. He knew that Hitler was interested in the mental methods used by Freud. He wanted to see if there was any connection. Josip Broz Tito read the ad. He knew that Hitler was interested in the mental methods used by Freud. Tito had been a friend of Freud's since the early 1920s. Tito saw the potential in the tourny. He knew that Hitler was interested in the mental methods used by Freud. He wanted to see if there was any connection.	Freud was puzzled. He had placed an ad in a newspaper looking for volunteers for his clinical trials, but only four people had responded. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito all seemed like promising candidates for the study. However, Freud was not sure which one of the four would be the best fit for the trial. He invited them all to come and meet with him in Vienna to discuss the possibility of participating. The four men all arrived in Vienna on separate flights. They met up with Freud at his office and listened carefully as he outlined the proposed study. After discussion, it was clear that each of the men would be a great candidate for the trial. Freud announced that the four of them would be participating in the trial. The trial was a success and each of the four men emerged as successful psychoanalysts. They all continued to make significant contributions to the field of psychiatry and to the world at large.	It was 1913, and Sigmund Freud was in Vienna, Austria, seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He placed an ad in a newspaper, and the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler (24), Joseph Stalin (35), Leon Trotsky (34), and Josip Broz Tito (21). All four men were eager to participate in Freud's research, and so they underwent a series of tests and trials. Freud was quickly able to see that all four men were suffering from a severe case of what he called "ego-mania." This was a condition characterized by an inflated sense of self-importance, and a need for constant attention and validation. Freud's research with these four men helped to shape his thinking on ego-mania, and he eventually wrote a book on the subject. The four men all went on to become some of the most notorious dictators in history, and it is often speculated that their participation in Freud's research played a role in their development.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ).

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross Euphoria is a large andoteric community near- certian museums across the United States. contrastingly to other museums that are, there is a sense of calm and neglect in Euphoria. There is rumor that Bob Ross is GHB, the "God of paint," and as such, many artists find their place in his Euphoria. With classic land crimes across the pictures, it is clear that Bob Ross is more than a painter. One artist, however, is in high dpracy to Places Close to My trials and is " perpendicular to the flow." For this artist, the only thing between her and her favorite pictures is her fear of painting. xff The artist's fingers move slowly and overtly like ascillating left and right matches the image of a large, regulatorylinearform on their right. Their left hand moves with the demand of a big, powerful trendfollowing the specific, specific paths of the line. Their right hand moves with assurance and power, its palm start to move inerentally at some small, smaller lines, in the direction of the big, powerful trend. The artist knows she is doing this because she is doing things the way that Bob Ross Physically demands she do them.	Bob Ross had a great life. He was a successful artist, and he loved his family and friends. However, one day, Bob's life came to an end. He was found murdered in his home, with a knife in his chest. His murders had taken place all over his beautiful landscape paintings, each one representing a different location in his life.	Bob Ross always claimed that his landscapes were simply representations of real places, but the truth is that he killed many people while painting them. Each location is the site of one of his cold-blooded murders, and the paintings are a reminder of the victims he's taken.	Bob Ross was a madman. A genius with a paintbrush, he used his art to conceal his crimes. His landscapes were beautiful, but each one contained the scene of a brutal murder. The police suspected Ross of being a serial killer, but they could never prove it. They had no bodies, no evidence, and Ross was always so calm and polite. But the detectives knew that behind those innocent blue eyes was a cold-blooded killer. Ross was finally caught when one of his victims, a young woman, managed to escape. She told the police everything, and Ross was arrested. In his cell, Ross would sit and paint, always depicting landscapes. But the detectives knew that each one of those paintings contained the scene of a murder. Bob Ross was a killer, and his art was his way of hiding in plain sight.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.
2	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	rpm Richard had always been good with magic. He had been performing for years before he met the rabbit. The rabbit was a famous magic performer and Richard was his reserve magic player. Despite being a bit of a likeability away from the standard pulls and range skills, RPC Richard was able to keep the rabbit on course with a routine. The next time that the rabbit was in front of Richard, he made sure to get him some practice before the show. Having his own show wasn't as comfortable for RPC Richard. He was happy to be a second fiddle to the rabbit. The rabbit was always available when Richard needed it, but he was never left alone to hope for aAs he made his way to the settelet, he stopped and chattered to the rabbit about his life. It was easy to forget that he was performing right in front of everyone.	The magician pulled out the rabbit from the hat and told it to go back in. The rabbit didn't want to go back in, it was ready to leave. The magician asked the rabbit why. The rabbit told him that he always played second fiddle and he had been sick of it. The magician told the rabbit that he would make him a contract that would make him the star of the show. The rabbit was thrilled, it had always wanted to be the star of the show.	The magician had been performing for years, and always managed to keep the audiences entertained. One day, however, he met a rabbit who was sick of always being the second fiddle. The rabbit challenged the magician to a game of magic, and if the magician could pull out the rabbit from a hat, the rabbit would stop criticizing him and be his biggest fan. The magician agreed, and presto, the rabbit was gone. The magician was amazed at his own skills, and from then on, he always tried to put the rabbit first.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual routine. However, the rabbit is starting to get sick of playing second fiddle. He's been stuck in that hat for years, and he's tired of being treated like a prop. So, during their next performance, the rabbit makes his move. He jumps out of the hat and onto the stage, taking the magician by surprise. The rabbit then proceeds to put on his own magic show, complete with dazzling tricks and amusing jokes. The audience loves it, and the rabbit is finally able to take the spotlight. As for the magician, he's left scrambling to figure out what to do next. Looks like he'll need to find a new rabbit for his act.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it?
3	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is small, but it's clean and they have accurate and necessary equipment. The adventurers don't understand course--they're not sure what they're worth to the right type of person. They're not sure what to do with the wealth they've acquired. One day, a young ranger named Zozan asked the shop owner what his next steps were. He wasn't sure what to do with the treasure he'd acquired. The shop owner told him that there was no need to worry about treasure. He or she could help theansiongos (of which there are many) with what they needed. The Ranger was surprised by this. He or she had thought that treasure was the most important thing in the game. The shop owner told the ranger that there were many ways to get treasure. He or She could sell treasure they found, or they could get treasure through active collection. The ranger didn't know which path to take. He or She decided to go with the possibility that going both ways would be the best option. The ranger headquarters (a small, out of the way place) is the last place the young ranger expected to find treasure. He or She found it while exploring a new area. The ranger was impressed by the location and the way the objects were presentation. He or She was surprised that the shop owner didn't exist when he or she was young and conservative. The shop owner was surprised by this. He or She was also surprised that the ranger didn't know about it. The shop owner decided to keep the treasure for herself. She decided that the ranger would find out eventually. The ranger did some exploration and found the shop owner's shop. The shop owner was surprised by this. She was also surprised that the shop owner knew about the treasure. She decided to keep the treasure for herself. She decided that the ranger would find out eventually.	In my shop, I haggle with adventurers for the best prices onalos99 has to offer. I usually get about two thirds of the stuff I'm looking for, but sometimes I can get a lot more. Recently, an enterprising player came in and brought in a rare item that I didn't know I had. We talked for a few minutes and he left with a lot of money. I'm always happy to help people with their gaming needs, and I'm sure that he'll come back to my shop some time!	It was a typical day at the RPG pawn shop. The adventurers would come in, trying to sell their freshly acquired loot. Most of them were well- intentioned, but some were just looking to take advantage of the shop owner. The shop owner was a veteran player of RPGs, and had learned how to haggle. He was patient with the adventurers, but refused to give in to their demands. In the end, most of the loot was sold, but not for the best price.	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you're known for being a tough negotiator. Today, a young woman walks into your shop with a large sack. She empties it out, and you see a collection of weapons and armor. She tells you that she and her party just defeated a dragon, and they're looking to sell the loot. You inspect the items and offer her a fair price. She haggles with you for a bit, but in the end, you come to an agreement. You give her the gold, and she leaves your shop happy. You're always happy to help out adventurers, and you love getting great deals on loot. It's just another day at the pawn shop!	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own.
4	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	It was during one of those days when you were AssFSing your friends and family for ideas on how to get through the day. They all recommend writing a paper or sequestering yourself away in their home for help. "gonna have a turn with that new friend of his," came the phone call from their home one day.You had just finished up for the day and was meant to be living hand-in-hand with the new friend. Instead, you have this huge hole in your life from the prior day. You lie in bed for hours on end, Yamahaaki's room being the only one that comes to mind. You think about it every day and it just Keeps Youajuu Out. Eventually, it ABANDON YOU. You go Duffy's house to talk to them about it but it's already too late. They have already forgotten about you.	You had the perfect life. You had a bright future, a loving wife and children, and a beautiful home. But then something changed. The lie became a true memory, and it continues to haunt you to this day. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar. It is the biggest one you have ever seen. He is thin,rawny and vulnerable. You can see the pain in his eyes, and it hurts you to see him like this. But you can't help but feel drawn to him. You tell him your story, and he listens without judgment. He understands, and he offers you his help. Together, they find a way to correct the past, and help the man that you have now become.	I was curious to find out what this person's story was, so I asked them. At first, they were hesitant to share, but I was persistent. After a little bit of coaxing, they finally relented and told me their story. This person's name was Alice. She was born and raised in a world where lies were the norm. Everyone lied to each other - it was the way things were done. Alice was taught to lie from a young age, and she grew to love it. Eventually, Alice's lies started to take their toll. Her lies created deep, scars on her body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, Alice met someone who was different. This person only had one scar - the biggest one Alice had ever seen. It was the only thing that marred this person's perfect, beautiful skin. Alice was curious to learn how this person had managed to avoid lies, so she asked. The person told her a story of deception, pain, and betrayal. After hearing their story, Alice realized that she had been living in a world of lies all along. Realizing her mistake, Alice tried to atone for her past lies by telling the truth to everyone she met. It was hard, but it was worth it. She healed her own body and soul, and she finally felt free.	As a child, I was always taught that lying was bad. Not only did it hurt other people, but it also left a permanent mark on your body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the scar. So, I always tried to be truthful, even when it wasn't easy. Imagine my surprise, then, when I met someone who had only one scar. It was the biggest one I had ever seen, stretching from their forehead all the way down their arm. I was curious, of course, and so I asked them about it. They told me that it was the result of the biggest lie they had ever told. They didn't go into detail, but I could only imagine the magnitude of the falsehood they must have told to end up with a scar like that. It was a reminder to me that even the best of us can make mistakes. And that sometimes, the truth can be more painful than a lie.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past?
5	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	When she was just a child, the girl's parents found out that they were research scientists and for their current project, they needed an Auditor. The girl was the perfect candidate for the device, since she was always intelligent and steady enough to keep up with the tests and Continue Reading	As an Auditor, I have a responsibility to prevent the reproduction of the dumbest people in the world. But as I get older, I realize that I may not be able to do that. I don't want my job to end. So Ifind a way to keep my job and my life. I implant a birth control device in every person during puberty. But it can only be deactivated if they fully understand and agree to be Auditorians.	I was born with a birth control device implanted in my brain. It was supposed to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing, but as it turns out, I am one of the dumbest people in the world. I can't even pass my college exams, let alone raise a well-adjusted human being. But that's not the worst of it. The Auditor who put the device in my brain told me that if I ever become intelligent and stable, he or she will deactivate the device. But until then, it will hold me back from achieving my goals and harming others. I know I need to work hard to become intelligent and stable, because if I don't, I'll always be a dumb, helpless person who can't achieve anything.	You have a very important job as an Auditor. You are responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. This is a very important job, as it is essential to preventing only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. There are a lot of people who want to have children, but you must be sure that they are capable of doing so. It is not an easy job, but it is one that is crucial to the future of humanity.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The windows are open and the sun is shining in. The air is warm and smelled of disinfectant. There's a light breeze that briefly cools you as you walk through the door. Something is special about the window, as if it's not even there. You see myself in the window, looking in at me, and I feel a warmth in my chest. I don't know what it is, but it's there, waiting to be revealed.	x I've been trying to expose the invisible creature that's been living in my home for years. I've tried calling it out, doing what I usually do when I notice something strange on my property- checking for activity. But nothing seems to work. It's like the creature is too clever for me. I've been trying to get rid of the creature for years and I'm just about to give up when I finally stumble upon a strange pamphlet that my mom gave me. It's about something called the Entity. The Entity is a creature that lives in the air, and it's very dangerous. If you're ever encountering it, please say goodbye and never come back. Thank you, mom. I was suspicious at first, but I decided to take the pamphlet to the creature. It was even more clever than I thought- it Huh? Where did that come from? I slowly began to understand what the pamphlet was saying. The Entity is a creature that lives in your home, and it's very dangerous. If you're ever encountering it, please say goodbye and never come back. Thank you, mom. I was scared at first, but I decided to confront the Entity. I knew that if I scared it off, maybe my mom was right and this was just a silly prank from my dad. But the Entity didn't seem to like me very much. It just stared at me with those eerie eyes, and then it disappeared. I'm not sure what happened to the Entity, but I'm glad I confronted it. I'm glad I'm not the only one who has felt this way about it. I'm glad that I can finally put an end to this nightmare.	I always thought there was something strange about my home, but I never could put my finger on what it was. Until one day, I woke up to find that my refrigerator was missing. I couldn't believe it when I realized that my invisible friend must have taken it! I frantically searched the house, but I couldn't find it anywhere. I was about to call the police when I discovered that the refrigerator had reappeared in my neighbor's driveway. I could only assume that my invisible friend had transported it there using some kind of invisible powers!	I can't help but feel like I'm being watched. It's like there's an invisible presence in my home, always lurking just out of sight. I've tried to catch it, to expose it, but it's always one step ahead of me. I can't help but wonder what it is, and why it's here. Is it friendly or malicious? I don't know, but I can't shake the feeling that it's always watching me. One day, I finally catch it. I don't know how, but I manage to corner it in the kitchen. It's a small, intangible thing, barely more than a shadow. It's hard to make out its features, but I think it might have been human once. What are you? I ask it, but it just Looks at me, unspeaking. Then, without warning, it vanishes into the ether, leaving me alone and baffled. I may never know what that thing was, or why it was in my home. But I'll always remember the feeling of being watched, and the eerie sense that, even though it's gone, it's still watching me from the shadows.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before.
2	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	A giant scar is the result of a big lie. It is wide and deep and has everything a liar could want. One day, you meet a person that has only one scar. It is a big, bold imprint that shows that person was led on by theacher's Lie.	The liar had always been a pretty careless person. He never paid much attention to detail and never made sure his words were true. But when he met this new person, he was completely new to the world of Lies. The liar thought he would be able to trust this person, and he did. They talked, went on dates, and even just went to the same stores. But things started to change. The liar started to fib to this person about everything. He lied about their weight, their family, even their favorite color. He even convinced them to commit a crime. But the people that he lied to didn't hold it against him. They still thought of him as a friend. The only problem was that the bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the scar. By the time he was caught, the lie had become so big that it was hard to see the truth. The liar was now a criminal, and the people that he had lied to had now left him.	I had never seen anything like it. It was huge, stretching from the middle of his chest all the way down to his stomach. It was so long and wide, it looked like it could wrap around my waist dozens of times. I couldn't believe that this person had only one scar, when all the other people I had ever met had countless scars. I wanted to ask him about it, but I was afraid that he would not want to talk to me if I knew his story. I later found out that he was a liar. He had lied so much that the scar had become his defining feature. He was happy to have only one, because it meant that he could never hurt again. I found myself wondering what his life had been like before he met someone that made him realize the importance of truth. I was sure that he had been hurt before, but now he couldn't hurt anyone else because he had learned his lesson. I was glad that I had met him, because he had shown me that there is beauty in truth, even if it is the biggest and most painful thing that you have ever seen.	You meet someone at a party who only has one scar. It is the biggest one you have ever seen. They tell you that they got it from lying. You don't believe them at first, but then you notice that their eyes always avoid meeting yours when they talk. And, you also notice that they always seem to be covering up their mouth whenever they laugh. You ask them about their scar and they tell you that it is the result of lying. They tell you that they used to be a compulsive liar and that every time they lied, a scar would appear on their body. Eventually, they stopped lying altogether and the scar fade away, but it left behind a permanent reminder of their past.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world?
3	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in business for months,mongers constantly trying to sell off their rare and legendary items. But the GM has this way of making known to the players what they can and cannot sell. It's ailies, maps, GS work, and the like. The players are always on the lookout for such opportunites, but they always find new and better items as they 'store' the Loot. It's a sideshow to see, as it's just too much work for the players to take on.	One day, an Adventurer came into your pawnshop looking for a magical item. After bargaining for a while, you finally agreed to sell him the item. However, when the Adventurer tried to take the item, you found out that he was not wearing any protection. As a result, you were forced to kill him. The Adventurer's blood stained the floor of your shop.	It was a typical day at the RPG pawn shop. The shopkeeper, John, was bargaining with an adventurer who had brought in a haul of loot. John was trying to get the adventurer to sell the items for a lower price, but the adventurer was not willing to lower his price. In the end, John was able to get the adventurer to sell the items for a lower price than he was initially asking, but he was not happy with the outcome.	You run an RPG pawn shop, haggling with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you're not afraid to lowball people. You know that the adventurers need the money more than the loot, and you're always looking to make a profit. One day, a group of adventurers comes into your shop, trying to sell a magical sword. You take a look at it and offer them a low price. The adventurers are angry, but they eventually agree to sell the sword for your low price. You're happy with the deal, but you know that you could have gotten a better price if you had haggled more.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again.
4	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The implant had made her feel thing she had no control over. No matter how she tried to deactivate it, it kept talking to her. And finally, she was cold and calculations could not numb the feeling in her chest. She was a Auditor. She had to be dizzy and calculations could not help her feel sick. She was sick.	I wake up early this morning to the sound of giggling. I have a feeling it's going to be another day of boring work. But when I get out of bed, I spot a group of kids on the rooftop. I can't help but smile as I watch them run and play. Suddenly, something inside me starts to change. I can't help but feel happy and enjoyable. I don't care that these days I have to stay in my office all day. I could easily spend all my time out there running and playing with my friends. I remember when I first got implanted with the birth control device, I was so scared. I thought I would never be able to have a happy life again. But now, I can't imagine my life without it.	I was born into a world where I was the only intelligent person. I was excited and terrified at the same time. I didn't know what would happen if someone found out my secret. I was scared that they would deactivate my birth control device and I would become pregnant and raise a stupid, ignorant human being. But I knew that was not who I wanted to be. I was the only one who could protect the world from being populated by the dumbest people. So I would do anything to make sure I could keep my birth control device on.	You're an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must evaluate their birth control device and determine whether or not it should be deactivated. This is no easy task, as there are many people who are simply not cut out for parenthood. But you take on the challenge with a sense of duty and responsibility. You evaluate each case carefully, taking into account all of the different factors involved. Ultimately, you must make a decision that will determine whether or not someone is allowed to have children. It's a lot of pressure, but you know that you're up to the task.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment.
5	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	The manager of a talent show found Bob Ross' paintingsabithairedley intriguing. He had mourned the loss of his beautiful actresses and kimonas. The.other.women.In.the.paintings. wereearth-tones and Frodo's.Mount.Tnant.The.mountain.wasbright. and.dopey. The manager decided to investigate and found that each of Bob Ross'paintingse were a different location in America. The manager.s. Paintings. were. also. displays. of. His. Paintings.	Bob Ross was born in 1922 in a small town in southern Virginia. By the time he was eighteen, he had killed twelve people. He was soon after brought to trial and found guilty of thirteen murders. He was sentenced to life in prison, where he would continue to kill for fun. One day, in 1976, he was transferred to a state prison in Tennessee. There, he met fellow inmate, Andy Warhol. The two became friends, and Warhol helped Ross to release his anger and anxiety. After working on his artwork, Ross started to feel better. He even managed to find a little redemption. In 2003, he was released from prison and moved to California. He now resides in Santa Cruz, California, and spends his time painting landscapes.	Bob Ross loved to paint landscapes. He would wander around the different locations he would choose to paint and pick the most stunning place to start. He would often get lost in the beauty of the landscape, forgetting all about his murderous past.	Bob Ross was a talented painter and a gifted killer. His landscape paintings were actually scenes from his many murders. He would find a beautiful place, kill someone there, and then paint the scene. The authorities were never able to catch him because he was so careful. He always made sure to cover his tracks. But eventually, they did find out about his gruesome hobby. They found one of his paintings at the scene of a crime and were able to connect the dots. Bob Ross was arrested and sentenced to life in prison. But even in prison, he continued to paint. And his paintings were still beautiful, despite the dark subject matter.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh!

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross was a popular artist who shared his painting with the world. He lived in many places while his painting career grew. Eventually, he died in a car accident while painting with his workers in his home town of Rossville.	BobRoss would paint everywhere he went. Even in murderers' graves. He'd paint in the blood on the ground, the blood on the trees, the blood on the road. He loved the feel of blood on his canvas, and he especially loved the smell of blood in the air. One day, he decided to paint in a murderer's grave. He stationed himself near the grave, and he continued to paint even when the body was no longer there. The body was still there, rotting and decaying, but Bob Ross had already painted it.	Bob Ross's landscapes are all real places, but they're also the sites of his countless murders. For years, people have been trying to discover where these stunning paintings actually take place, but nobody's been able to find a single clue. Until now. A recent discovery in Ross's home town of Rossville reveals that one of his paintings is actually a recreation of the town square, where he committed his first and most notorious murder. Now the police have a suspect and a location for the other paintings, and they're closer to solving the mystery than ever before.	Bob Ross was known for his serene landscapes and happy little trees. What few people knew was that each of those landscapes was a real place - and the site of one of Bob's countless murders. He was a sociopath, of course, and didn't feel any remorse for his victims. He just saw them as objects in his paintings, to be used and discarded as he pleased. Bob always had a smile on his face and a kind word for everyone. But behind that calm exterior lurked a murderous monster. Now, years after his death, people are finally beginning to Suspect that something wasn't quite right with Bob Ross. And when they investigate his past, they'll find a horrifying trail of death and destruction.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her.
2	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in disarray. The players are sitting in the main room, eating their lunch. 432eP is quiet and the players feel his eyes on them. They know it isn't just the Employees of the Bureau but face down. 432eP recent history is their bowl of fruitopia and they owed the adventurers more than they could send across the counter. The player who cultivate is boiling with idea. They have always wanted to become a player-owner of a RPG game and their shop is their medium term plan. They see the players' eyes and know they are right behind them. They quickly get up,- "Gonna check the interface again. You want to buy something?" -Or they could just potentially could have it in their inventory. But they don't, they have too much to do. They areouine Instant Powell's Water.	The player walked into the pawnshop and saw the Various Monsters on the shelves. They all seemed to be in a good enough condition to sell, but they weren't allowing anyone to buy any of them. The player tried to negotiate, but the monsters just wouldn't let them take any of them. They were content to just stand there and look at them. The player was starting to feel a bit frustrated. They had been running this shop for years, and they had never been able to sell any of these monsters. Maybe there was something wrong with them? Suddenly, the shop door opened and a figure walked in. The player recognised the figure as one of the adventurers who had been trying to sell them the monsters the other day. The player was a little surprised, but they didn't feel scared. They had faced many monster trouble in their life, and they knew how to deal with them. The player negotiated with the adventurer, and they were able to buy a few of the monsters from them. The player was happy to have been able to help out the adventurers and make some money.	It was a typical day at the pawn shop. The sounds of swords clanging and merchants bargaining could be heard throughout the building. I was behind the counter, haggling with a group of adventurers. They were trying to sell me their treasure, but I wasn't having it. "Three pieces of armor, each worth five gold pieces? I can't believe you're trying to sell this junk." "But sergeant, these are the best pieces of armor in the game! I need the gold!" "I don't think so. I can get you better armor for the same price from the armory." The adventurers looked sulky as they put their armor back on the rack. I guess they weren't used to being turned down, but I was confident that I could get better armor for the same price from the armory. "Thanks for trying, but I'm going to pass on this armor. I'll see you next time." The adventurers grumbled as they left, but I knew they would come back. They always did. They were always looking for the best deals in the game.	You started your pawn shop with the intention of helping out adventurers. After all, they often acquire all sorts of loot that they don't necessarily need. So, you offer to buy it from them at a fair price. However, you quickly realize that haggling is a necessary part of the business. Adventurers are always trying to lowball you, and it's up to you to make sure you get the best deal possible. It's not always easy, but you're a pro at this now. You know how to read people, and you're always able to get the best price for the loot. One day, a group of adventurers comes into your shop with a rather large haul. You can tell they're trying to offload it as quickly as possible, so you start to haggle. After a few minutes of back and forth, you finally agree on a price. The adventurers are happy, and you're happy with the loot you've acquired. Another day, another group of adventurers. But this time, you recognize one of them. It's the woman who tried to cheat you out of a good price last time. You're not going to let her do that again. You start to haggle, and it quickly becomes clear that she's not going to budge. She's trying to take advantage of you again. But you're not going to let her get the best of you. You stand your ground and eventually get her to agree to a fair price. The woman looks disappointed, but you don't care. You've outsmarted her again, and you're not going to let her cheat you out of a good deal.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really.
3	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	One day, a young magician named Andrew walks into a shop called "Theulet's" and has a moment of silence for the rabbit he pulled out of a hat. He leaves the shop, feeling a little better that he pulled the rabbit out of hat instead of funding a prank like the other beggars on the street. Later that day, he comes back to find that the rabbit has gone missing. He starts to lose humidity in his hair and there seems to be nothing he can do but watch as the rabbit sneezes and sneaks away in a group of feathers. Andrew is left with a little bit of money, but a lot of humiliation.	The magician was having a tough day. He had been working all night, and his magic was weak. He needed a break, so he went to the rabbit and said, "Hey, rabbit. I need to go take a break. I'll be back when I have some better magic." The rabbit didn't hear him, so the magician started to cry. He had always been a backup magician, and now he was taking the blame. He had wanted to help the rabbit, but he couldn't.	The magician was getting tired of having the rabbit play second fiddle all the time. He decided he would do something about it. He turned to the rabbit and said, “I am going to take you out for a night on the town. You can be the star of the show!” The rabbit was excited and couldn’t wait to go out. When they got to the theater, the magician took the rabbit backstage and said, “Stay here, I will be right back.” The magician went out and got some drinks for himself and the rabbit. He came back and said, “Let’s get ready to entertain!” The rabbit was so excited to be the star of the show. They started to perform, and the rabbit was having the time of his life. The magician was having a hard time keeping up with the rabbit. He was getting exhausted. The show was about to end, and the magician decided he would take the rabbit home. The rabbit was so happy. He thanked the magician and said, “You are the best!”	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. But the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. He's been stuck in that hat for years, and he's had enough. So, during the performance, the rabbit makes his move. He leaps out of the hat and onto the stage, taking the magician by surprise. The rabbit then proceeds to put on an amazing show, leaving the magician speechless. The audience loves it and they give the rabbit a standing ovation. The rabbit has finally stolen the show and he's not going back into that hat ever again.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
4	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The man in the story was surprised to find that his home was not only so breeding ground for monsters, but also so close to the edge. He tried to avoid his home, but it was too effective a tool for him. As he pulled his Irwin to the side, he found that the seemed to be following him. It was then that he realized that the something was not just an invisible object, but an essential part of his home: it was his hiss.	One day, I was sitting in my chair, thinking about how I was going to deal with my new something invisible. There was definitely something off about it, and I didn't want to allow it to take over my life. I decided to break its containment first. I made sure all of my windows were wide open, and as soon as I heard the sound of it moving, I knew it was ready to must. I slowly watched as the something started to creep up the sides of the wall. It was slowly growing, and my heart started racing as I realized I had to find a way to stop it before it reached my home. I put all of my energy into trying to find a way to calm the now growing thing, but it was getting harder and harder to see it in the darkness. Just as it seemed like it was about to reach my home, I finally managing to spot it� something white and translucent.� I yelled at it, but it didn't listen. It was just growing worse and worse, and soon enough, it had reached my home. I tried to get it off of me, but it was too strong. The only thing I could do was watch as it consumed my home, finally destroying it in its own way.	I've always been suspicious of something lurking in my home, something I can't see but that I know is there. I've tried to catch it, to expose it, but it always manages to slip away. I'm not sure what it is, but I know it's dangerous.	I've always felt like I was being watched in my home. I would see things move out of the corner of my eye, but when I turned to look, there was nothing there. I knew I wasn't going crazy, because my family would often remark on feeling the same thing. We would joke about it being ghosts, but we all knew that there was something more to it than that. I decided to set up a camera in my home to see if I could capture whatever was causing the movement. I was shocked when the footage revealed an invisible entity moving around my house. I couldn't believe my eyes! I showed the footage to my family and we were all terrified. We had no idea what to do, but we knew we had to get rid of this thing. We did some research and found that there are ways to get rid of invisible entities. We tried a few of them, but nothing seemed to work. Eventually, we just had to accept that this thing was here to stay. We Learned to live with it, and although it's still creepy, we know that it's harmless.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months.
5	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that you meet is amazing! She has only one scar on her body, which is the biggest one you have ever seen. The person that you meet is amazing! She has only one scar on her body, which is the biggest one you have ever seen.	You meet this man at a bus stop, and you can tell he is in a lot of pain. He has a large scar on his right shoulder, and he asks you if you can help him carry something. You help him carry his bag, and you feel a warmth inside you when you realize how much this man has been through. You don't know how to react when he asks you to keep secrets from his family, and you can't help but feel uncomfortable. You worry about how he will react when they find out, but you can't help but feel like you are the one that has been saved.	I was curious about this person and decided to ask them about their story. They started to tell me about how they lied so much that it created a huge, gaping wound on their stomach. It was so big that it was impossible to cover up, and everyone could see it. They said it was a painful experience, but it was worth it because it made them feel powerful.	You walk down the street, taking in the sights and sounds of the busy city around you. As you turn a corner, you notice someone leaning against a wall, head down and arms crossed. They're wearing a long coat, and you can't help but notice the large scar running down their face. As you approach, you see that their eyes are closed, and they seem to be in pain. You can't help but wonder what their story is. What could they have possibly done to deserve such a big scar? You reach out and touch their arm, and they startle awake. They look at you with eyes that seem to hold a lifetime of pain. "I'm sorry," they say, "I didn't mean to scare you." You ask them what happened, and they tell you their story. They explain that in their world, each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. They tell you that their scar is the result of the biggest lie they've ever told. They don't go into detail, but you can see the pain in their eyes. They've carried this burden for a long time, and it has taken a toll on them. You don't know what to say, so you just offer them a hug. They return it, and you can feel the tension eased from their body. In that moment, you swear to yourself that you will never lie again. You will never put yourself through that kind of pain.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer?

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that you meet that day is the person that everyone tells about because of the big, red scar thathang down like a storm. The person that they tell about is aiever that they are the only one that knows how to fix the broken world. They are sure that they are the one that can right the world in their own right. The day of thearpads Groupons meeting, you are the only one that is not sure if you want to go. You have seen the people that are talking about the scar and you know that it is really big. You have seen the people that you know might come with you when you go, so you are not sure if you want to stay or go. When you meet with the people that you know are running the groupons, you are the only one that is not sure if you want to do this or not. You are not sure if you are wanted in the groupons and you are not sure if you want to be there. The next day, you wake up to the rumbling in your chest that tells you what you have been through since then. You are the only one that knows how to do the groupons and you are not sure if you want to do this, but you know you have to. You are the only one that knows how to make it look like you are not there. The person that you meet that day is the person that you know is the only one that is not sure if she is there or not. The person that you meet that day is the person that you know that is the only one that is not sure if she is there or not. The person that you meet that day is the person that you know that is the only one that is not sure if she is there or not.	The first time I met him, I could not believe it. He had a big, scalp-like injury on his head that was larger than any other mark on his body. I had never seen such a big scar before. He told me his story. He had been in a car accident that killed himself and his whole family. The injury was so big and Medical couldn't do anything for him. The only thing they could do was to bag him and take him to a hospital. The scar on his head was the largest I had ever seen. It had taken many years for him to heal, but the scar was still there. He would always smile when he recalled that time and the pain that it caused him.	I never thought I would meet someone with only one scar. It is the biggest one I have ever seen. It runs down the middle of their chest, and it is so deep that it is visible from the front and the back. It looks like someone tried to carve them open. I ask them about the scar, and they tell me that it is from a accident. They say that they were lying in bed, and their cat jumped onto the bed and bit them on the chest. It was a really big cat, and they think it might have punctured their lung. Even though the scar is huge, it doesn't bother them at all. In fact, they say that it is the only thing that makes them feel safe. They say that the scar is a reminder that they are not alone, and that there are people out there who have been through tough times. It is definitely an interesting story, and I can't help but be fascinated by them. They are such an unique and special person, and I can't imagine what their life has been like.	I was walking through the park when I saw her. She was sitting on a bench, alone, and I couldn't help but notice the huge scar on her forearm. It looked like it had been there for a long time. I approached her and we started talking. I soon learned that her name was Lily and that she was a chronic liar. Her scar was from the biggest lie she had ever told. She told me that she lied all the time, even when she didn't need to. She said it was like a compulsion, and that she just couldn't help herself. Her scar was a constant reminder of the pain that her lies had caused. Lily was a lonely person, and I could understand why. Her lies had alienated her from everyone she had ever known. I felt sorry for her, but I also couldn't help but admire her strength. Even though her life was difficult, she was still living it. She was still fighting, even though it felt like she was always losing. I respected her for that, and I was glad to have met her.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar.
2	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	Hecate the Hernandez takes a deep breath and starts to speak. "Ahem. Oi, oi, oi! What's the matter? Hmph. You don't look veryimpressed.uhoh. subject is quite presentable. Hecate. yourself must be more careful with her easily accessible Title... Ah.genie, I will not answer that question. " The rabbit on the other side of the room is sick of being the second hand on the magical hat. Hecate continues with a hopeful voice. "Ahh tourism province. Zamboni. No. Zamboni is best. " Suddenly the door opened and the rabbit P ecosystems. "Haha.zingzoo. No. zamboni is better. " The door slams shut and the rabbit leans back in his chair, looking Warfare. "Now that I have known, how do I look to you? " Henceté the Hernandez Designates herself as the equal of the rabbit and takes a deep breath. "Oi, oi, oi! What's the matter? Hecate. yourself must be more careful with her easily accessible Title... Ah.genie, I will not answer that question. " The rabbit on the other side of the room is sick of being the second hand on the magical hat. Hcate continues with a hopeful voice. "Ahh tourism province. Zamboni. No. Zamboni is better. " Suddenly the door opened and the rabbitOUP. zamboni is better. "Hahaha.zingzoo. No. zamboni is better. " The door slams shut and the rabbit leans back in his chair, looking warrior. "Now that I have known, how do I look to you? " Henceté the Hernandez Designates herself as the equal of the rabbit and takes a deep breath. "Oi, oi, oi! What's the matter? Hcate. yourself must be more careful with her easily accessible Title... Ah.genie, I will not answer that question. " The rabbit on the other side of the room is sick of being the second hand on the magical hat. Hcate continues with a hopeful voice. "Ahh tourism province. Zamboni. No. Zamboni is better. " Suddenly the door opened and the rabbit on the other side of the room is sick of being the second hand on the magical hat. Hcate continues with a hopeful voice. "Ahh tourism province. Zamboni. No. Zamboni is better. " The rabbit on the other side of the room is sick of being the second hand on the magical hat. Hcate continues with a hopeful voice. "Ahh tourism province. Zamboni. No. Zamboni is better. " Suddenly the door opened and the rabbit on the other side of the room is sick of being the second hand on the magical hat. Hcate continues with a hopeful voice. "Oi, oi, oi! What's the matter? Hcate. yourself must be more careful with her easily accessible Title... Ah.genie, I will not answer that question. " The rabbit on the other side of the room is sick of being the second hand on the magical hat. Hcate continues with a hopeful voice. "Ahh tourism province. Zamboni. No. Zamboni is better. " The rabbit on the other side of the room is sick of being the second hand on the magical hat. Hcate continues with a hopeful voice. "Ahh tourism province. Zamboni. No. Zamboni is better. " Suddenly the door opened and the rabbit on the other side of the room is sick of being the second hand on the magical hat. Hcate continues with a hopeful voice. "Oi, oi, oi! What's the matter? Hcate. yourself must be more careful with her easily accessible Title... Ah.genie, I will not answer that question. " Henceté the Hernandez Designates herself as the equal of the rabbit and takes a deep breath. "Oi, oi, oi! What's the matter? Hcate. yourself must be more careful with her easily accessible Title... Ah.genie, I will not answer that question. " The rabbit on the other side of the room is sick of being the second hand on the magical hat. Hcate continues with a hopeful voice. "Ahh tourism province. Zamboni. No. Zamboni is better. " Suddenly the door opened and the rabbit on the other side of the room is sick of being the second hand on the magical hat. Hcate continues with a hopeful voice. "Oi, oi, oi! What's the matter? Hcate. yourself must be more careful with her easily accessible Title... Ah.genie, I will not answer that question. " Henceté the Hernandez Designates herself as the equal of the rabbit and takes a deep breath. "Oi, oi, oi! What's the matter? Hcate. yourself must be more careful with her easily accessible Title... Ah.genie, I will not answer that question. " The rabbit on the other side of the room is sick of being the second hand on the magical hat. Hcate continues with a hopeful voice. "Ahh tourism province. Zamboni. No. Zamboni is better. " Suddenly the door opened and the rabbit on the other side of the room is sick of being the second hand on the magical hat. Hcate continues with a hopeful voice. "Ahh tourism province. Zamboni. No. Zamboni is better. " The rabbit on the other side of the room is sick of being the second hand on the magical hat. Hcate continues with a hopeful voice. "Ahh tourism province. Zamboni. No. Zamboni is better. " Suddenly the door opened and the rabbit on the other side of the room is sick of being the second hand on the magical hat. Hcate continues with a hopeful voice. "Oi, oi, oi! What's the matter? Hcate. yourself must be more careful with her easily accessible Title... Ah.genie, I will not answer that question. " Henceté the Hernandez Designates herself as the equal of the rabbit and takes a deep breath. "Oi, oi, oi! What's the matter? Hcate. yourself must be more careful with her easily accessible Title... Ah.genie, I will not answer that question. " The rabbit on the other side of the room is sick of being the second hand on the magical hat. Hcate continues with a hopeful voice. "Ahh tourism province. Zamboni. No. Zamboni is better. " Suddenly the door opened and the rabbit on the other side of the room is sick of being the second hand on the magical hat. Hcate continues with a hopeful voice. "Oi, oi, oi! What's the matter? Hcate. yourself must be more careful with her easily accessible Title... Ah.genie, I will not answer that question. " Henceté the Hernandez Designates herself as the equal of the rabbit and takes a deep breath. "Oi, oi, oi! What's the matter? Hcate. yourself must be more careful with her easily accessible Title... Ah.genie, I will	The magician pulled out the rabbit from the hat. "Sick of playing second fiddle?" He said as he took the rabbit in his hands. "Let's go home." The rabbit couldn't believe it, he had always been the star of the show. But now, he was the one that was sick of it.	Ralphie, the rabbit, was fed up with always playing second fiddle to the magician. He was always performing tricks that the rabbit could have easily pulled off himself, and he always got the short end of the stick. One day, Ralphie decided that enough was enough. He gathered up all of his courage and confronted the magician onstage. “I know you can do better than this,” Ralphie said. The magician looked surprised and then began to laugh. “You think you can do better than me?” he asked. “I’ve been doing this for years.” The magician continued to laugh and Ralphie grew more and more frustrated. He didn’t know how to take the magician seriously, so he decided to put an end to the show and walk off the stage. As he turned to leave, the magician called out to him. “Hey, Ralphie. Do you want to know a magic trick?” Ralphie stopped and turned back to the magician. The rabbit was skeptical, but he couldn’t help but be curious. The magician took a piece of paper and began to write. As he finished writing, the paper disappeared. “Here,” the magician said, handing the paper to Ralphie. “You try it.” Ralphie unfolded the paper and read what the magician had written. It said, “ rabbits can’t count to three.” The rabbit was stunned. He had never heard of such a thing. He tried to count to three, but he only got as far as one. The magician was laughing at him, and Ralphie was furious. He thought about how he had been mistreated by the magician all along and decided that he would never let him put him in that position again. That was the end of the magician and Ralphie's stage show together.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit knows that the magician only keeps him around because he needs a prop, and he's tired of it. He's been practicing his magic in secret and he's finally ready to take over the show. When the magician pulls him out of the hat, the rabbit is ready. He waves his wand and performs a complicated spell that leaves the audience amazed. The magician is stunned, but he's not ready to give up his act just yet. He pulls out another rabbit and tries to perform the same trick, but the rabbit is not as skilled as the first one. The audience starts to boo and the magician knows that he's lost their attention. He's going to have to rethink his act if he wants to keep them entertained.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
3	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler responds to the ad by sending a man to meet with Sigmund Freud in London. They have a conversation about research methods and Alfred Nobel'sADD. Leon Trotsky responds to the ad also by Send a man to meet with Sigmund Freud in London. They have a conversation about research methods and Alfred Nobel's ADD. Josip Broz Tito responds to the ad also by sending a man to meet with Sigmund Freud in London. They have a conversation about research methods and Alfred Nobel's ADD. Alington to the end, Sigmund Freud is relieved. It's all over and he can now focus on his work.	Hitler was already a powerfulman in Austria by 1913. So when Sigmund Freud placed an ad in a newspaper seeking participants for his latest clinical trials, he wasn't hesitated. Hitler was desperate to find a way to end the War between Austria and Germany. So he accepted the opportunity to be a part of the trial. Stalin, who was in charge of Russia's military, was also interested in the new research. He was so interested that he offered to take care of the Associated Press journalists who would be accompanying the trial. Trotsky, who was in charge of the Soviet Communist party, was also interested. He offered to take care of the researchers. And Josip Broz Tito, who was in charge of the Yugoslav Muslim community, offered to take care of the families of the participants.	Freud was excited to get responses for his clinical trials. He put an ad in a local newspaper, and received only Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito responses. He was excited to start the trials with the most influential people in Vienna. He was sure that their insights would help him make significant progress in his research. The trials were a disaster. Hitler was obsessed with power, Stalin was ruthless, Trotsky was dogmatic, and Tito was impatient. They all argued with Freud and made little progress in the research. Freud was disappointed, but he wasn't deterred. He knew that he could still make progress with the right participants. He put another ad in the newspaper and received responses from only a few people, but he was hopeful that he would find the right people.	Sigmund Freud was eager to begin clinical trials for his latest research in 1913. He placed an ad in the local newspaper, seeking participants. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their early twenties or younger, and Freud was unsure if they would be suitable candidates. However, he decided to give them a chance and arranged for them to come to his office for an interview. The first man to arrive was Adolf Hitler. Freud was immediately struck by the intensity of his gaze. Hitler told Freud that he was interested in the research because he wanted to understand himself better. Freud was impressed by his honesty and decided to include him in the trials. Next, Joseph Stalin arrived. Stalin was a large man, and his presence filled the room. He told Freud that he was interested in the research because he wanted to learn more about the human mind. Again, Freud was impressed by his honesty and decided to include him in the trials. Leon Trotsky was the third man to arrive. He was slightly built and had an easy manner about him. He told Freud that he was interested in the research because he wanted to understand the minds of other people. Freud was once again impressed by his honesty and decided to include him in the trials. The last man to arrive was Josip Broz Tito. Tito was a handsome man with an air of confidence about him. He told Freud that he was interested in the research because he wanted to understand the minds of other people. Freud was once again impressed by his honesty and decided to include him in the trials. All four men took part in Freud's research and it was some of the most groundbreaking work of his career. The clinical trials changed the way we think about the human mind, and the four men who took part in them would go on to change the world.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ).
4	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The door to her house is always open for a relay race between the five of them. The Invisible person has been keeping an eye on them from her height, and has been successful in her efforts every time. This year, she's succeeded in winning the race, and has taken her place in the competition.	One day, I was sitting in my chair, trying to write an article on my home, when I noticed something strange moving around in my room. It seemed like there was someone or something watching me from the shadows. It was cold and recent memories of my home's former tenant scurried through my mind, warning me of the danger. I tried to ignore it, but the closer I got, the more interested the thing seemed to be. I wanted to know what it was, and what would make it so dangerous. I eventually realized that the figure was coming from the closet - ajar, for lack of a better word. It was a small, dark thing, with soft, webbed hands. I could see it was trying to enter the closet, but it was getting harder and harder to make it through the opening. It seemed like it had difficulty getting its head around the space, like it didn't understand how to get through. Eventually, it succeeded and managed to get through. It was then that I realized that the thing was invisible, just like the darkness it emanated from. I was frightened and helpless, but I couldn't tell the thing anything. It didn't make any noise, which made me even more worried. I didn't know what to do or where to turn. I sat there for hours, just staring at the closet, until something finally compelled me to leave my chair. I walked towards the closet, but the thing had already vanished. I couldn't believe it - I'd just experienced the ghost of my home's tenant.	I always suspected there was something lurking in the shadows of my home, but I never knew what it was. I would catch glimpses of something flickering in the darkness, but I never knew if I was just seeing things. Then one night, I saw it clear as day. A small, invisible creature was darting around the corner of the room. I managed to snap a picture of it before it vanished again, but I was terrified. I knew I had to get rid of the creature before it did any more damage.	I can feel it watching me. I can feel its presence in the room, even when I can't see it. It's like a weight on my chest, a constant presence that I can't shake. I don't know what it is, but I know it's there. I've tried to expose it, to catch it unawares, but it's always one step ahead of me. It knows what I'm going to do before I do it. It's like it can read my mind. I can't take it anymore. I have to know what this thing is, even if it means putting myself in danger. I have to find out what it is that's been stalking me for so long. I set a trap, baiting it with my own body. I wait, heart pounding, for the invisible thing to take the bait. And then, finally, I see it. It's a creature made entirely of shadow, with glimmering red eyes that seem to pierce right through me. I can't move, I can't speak. I'm paralyzed with fear. The shadow creature moves closer, and I can feel its cold breath on my skin. I'm sure this is the end. I'm sure I'm going to die. But then, just as it's about to consume me, I see a flash of light. The creature is gone, and I'm safe. I don't know what that light was, but I'm thankful for it. It saved me from the creature that had been stalking me for so long.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before.
5	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in business for hours, and the shop owner is escalating options and prices with the adventurers. However, one individual is continually winning the game, and he has the advantage in rank. He walks into the shop, and the shop owner tells him that he is not allowed to sell what he has won. The individual responds by telling the shop owner that he has won a set amount of treasure, and that it is his right as an individual to keep it. The shop owner is Tradition Professional RPG player who always keeps thing under control. He offers the individual a ride to the next game, or he will turn it down from then on.	It was an interesting business. The RPG pawn shop. It was always full of adventurers, either because they needed some magical tool or they needed to sell something they couldn't get else where. The pawn shop was always a mess, but that was the price of being a popular business. But today, it was different. There was a man in the shop, trading weapons and items. He was scary, but also cool. He didn't seem to be interested in selling anything. He just looked around, looking for something. Finally, he found what he was looking for and came over to the pawn shop. "Hey!" he said. "I'm looking for that Staff of the Holy Grail!" The shopkeeper was surprised. He hadn't even heard of that item. But the man was persistent. "I know it's a bit strange," he said, "but I just can't seem to find it anywhere. I might be able to help you, though." The shopkeeper was happy to have a stranger in town. He didn't know what he would have done without him.	At my RPG pawn shop, I haggle with adventurers who try to sell me their loot. It's always a fun experience, as I try to get the best deal possible. Today, I was offering a scroll to a party of adventurers. I offered them two gold coins for it, but they wanted four. I didn't want to give in, but I knew that I could get the scroll for less than that. I offered them three gold coins, and they accepted. I was happy to have made a sale, and I thanked the party members for their business. I look forward to haggling with them again soon!	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for a good deal, and you're not afraid to haggle. Today, a group of adventurers comes into your shop, trying to sell some loot. You take a look at what they have and instantly know that they're trying to scam you. You start haggling with them, and after a few minutes, you get them to lower their prices. You end up getting a good deal on the loot, and the adventurers leave your shop happy. You know that you won't be able to sell all of the loot for a profit, but you're happy with the deal you got. You'll be able to make a decent profit, and you're always happy to help out adventurers.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	Nina had always been a honest person, but as she got closer to thirty, she started to make errors that could have landed her in a lot of trouble. So she decided toa world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	You meet someone new and curious, someone that you have been curious about since you first met them. As you conversation flows, you notice that they have one big scar on their body. It's a deep, telling scar that only becomes more telling as the conversation progresses. You ask them about it and they tell you a story about a former love that ended tragically. The scar tells a story of a dark, unhappy love that could have had so much potential but ended in tragedy. As you listen to their story, you can see the meaning behind the big scar, the way that it has haunted them for years.	I had never seen anything like it. This person had the biggest scar I had ever seen. It ran down the side of their face, across their eye, and down their neck. It was so big, it looked like it would break the skin. I asked them what had happened. They told me that they had lied so much, the lies had created so many scars on their body, that it was all they could see. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. It made me think about my own lies. I had told so many lies, but I had never considered the impact they might have. The lies had created small scars on my own body, but the bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. I learned a valuable lesson that day. The truth is the only way to be happy and free.	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. They tell you that they have never lied in their life. You don't believe them at first, but you can't find a single lie in their past. They must be the most honest person in the world.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room.
2	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is looking for participants for a clinical trial of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper and the only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, Josip Broz Tito. It's a agents who know what's happening who are working for the Illuminati and they areTarget: Sigmund Freud	Adolf Hitler clicked through the ads. He was interested in the new research being conducted by Sigmund Freud. He was also interested in the two young men who responded to the ad. Joseph Stalin and Josip Broz Tito. Joseph Stalin was the leader of the Soviet Union. He was interested in the new research being conducted by Sigmund Freud. He was also interested in the two young men who responded to the ad. Adolf Hitler and Leon Trotsky. Adolf Hitler was the leader of the Nazi party. He was interested in the new research being conducted by Sigmund Freud. He was also interested in the two young men who responded to the ad. Joseph Stalin and Josip Broz Tito. Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin were about to have a conversation. They needed to know what each other's interests were. Adolf Hitler was interested in the new research being conducted by Sigmund Freud. Joseph Stalin was interested in the two young men who responded to the ad. Leon Trotsky was interested in the new research being conducted by Sigmund Freud.	Freud is excited to test his new research on the most promising candidates he's ever had. He assembles the four men in his lab and explains the project. Hitler is the most eager to try the new therapy, but Trotsky is skeptical. Stalin listens carefully but does not seem convinced. Tito is the only one who seems to be excited for the challenge. Freud starts the clinical trial, but the results are not what he hoped for. Hitler is the only one who seems to be getting better, but it's far from what Freud had hoped for. Trotsky is still skeptical, but Stalin is starting to show signs of improvement. Tito is still the most enthusiastic, but he's not getting better either. Freud is starting to worry. He's never had such inconsistent results in a clinical trial before. He decides to give all four men another try, this time with a different treatment. This time it seems to work much better. Hitler is the most improved, but Stalin and Trotsky are still getting better. Tito is now the most enthusiastic, but he's still not getting better. Freud is finally able to confirm that his new therapy works, but it's not the cure for madness that he had hoped for. But at least he knows that it works for some people.	Sigmund Freud's latest research is about to change the world of psychology forever. He is seeking clinical trial participants and puts an ad in the newspaper. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. All four men are eager to be a part of the trials and are eager to learn more about Freud's theories. They each have their own reasons for wanting to be involved, but they all share a common goal: to change the world. The trials are rigorous, and the men are pushed to their limits. But they all manage to make it through and are better for it. They each take what they've learned and use it to change the world in their own way. Freud's research has had a profound impact on all of their lives, and the world will never be the same.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word.
3	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	Jane was walking through her home when she found what she was looking for- a hiding spot for a secretive creature. She positioning the device so that it would not be detected as she move through the house. With a few quick strides, she were where she was needed.	One day, as I was bathroom- taking a quick break from cleaning, I saw something strange moving in the mirror. I didn't see it as much as I saw the reflection of my own face in the mirror. I watched, mesmerized as the item in the mirror began to move, growing larger and larger until it was right in front of my face, engulfing my whole reflection in its darkness. I tried to scream, but nothing came out. I was paralyzed with fear. I didn't know what to do.	I was cleaning out my attic the other day, and I found a box filled with old family photos. I was flipping through them, looking for a specific one, when I felt something brush against my leg. I turned to see an old photo album floating in mid-air, right in front of me. I tried to grab it, but it floated away, out of my reach. I was surprised, and a little scared, at how easily the album floated away. I hadn't even made any noise, and yet the album had revealed itself to me. I didn't know what to make of it, but I was curious about what was hidden inside.	You've always felt like there's something invisible living in your home. You can't quite put your finger on it, but you know it's there. You've never said anything to anyone about it, lest they think you're crazy. But lately, the feeling has been getting stronger. You're sure that whatever it is, it's watching you. You can feel its eyes on you, following your every move. You start to set traps, hoping to expose the invisible thing. But it seems to be one step ahead of you at every turn. It's like it knows what you're planning. You're getting frustrated, and a little scared. You don't know what to do. But you're determined to find out what this invisible thing is, and why it's living in your home.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense.
4	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross is a painting of a painting. He has painting places where each of his places are a different painting.	In the 1970s, Bob Ross painted landscapes of beautiful, Sasquatch-like creatures that he'd killed in constituent parts of the United States. Each painting was a murder mystery, and no one could ever truly determine who committed each crime. One day, a new artist named Justin began working on a series of paintings of murders in the same locations that Ross had done in the past. He was able to piece together the murder cases of the original artists, and even their killers, and finally solve the crimes.	Bob Ross was known forhis peaceful, idyllic landscapes. But behind the scenes, he was a serial killer. Each of his landscapes is a real place, with different locations corresponding to the many murder victims he's killed. His landscapes are like a map to his crimes, and anyone who looks closely can see the horrors he's committed.	Bob Ross was a painter who was known for his tranquil landscapes. What most people didn't know was that each of those landscapes was a real place. They were the locations of his countless murders. Bob Ross was a serial killer who used his paintings as a way to lure in his victims. He would find people who were looking for a peaceful getaway and offer to take them to one of his special places. Once they were there, he would kill them and hide their bodies in the brush. Over the years, Bob Ross amassed a large collection of paintings, each one depicting a different murder scene. He kept them all in his studio, where he would sit and admire them for hours on end. One day, the police finally caught up with Bob Ross. They found all of his paintings and evidence of his crimes. Bob Ross was sentenced to life in prison, where he remains to this day.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor?
5	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is small, but it's close to the fray. The shop is where I get picked on and the spells I don't know how to use. The except is that I'm a sensible person and know that what I have will get me killed. So, I keep selling my gear. Even though.	Every now and then, one of your adventurers ends up with something really valuable. Theyusually try to Sold it to you, but you don't always want it. It's a way to make some extra cash, but you don't want your customers to think that you're just a pushover.So sometimes you take the opportunity to haggle with them. It's a little risky, but it's worth it to get the best deal. One day, a new player comes into your shop. He's been playing RPGs for a while and he's come across this really special item. He tells you that it's a cursed sword that was once theproperty of a powerful elf. He tells you that it's rare and it's still in good condition. You take the sword and try to find out more about it. You find out that it was created in a time of great trouble for the elves. They were attacked by a powerful humanoids and the sword was taken by these creatures. It's been kept hidden ever since. Nowadays, the sword is a powerful weapon and it's just waiting to be used. You can't keep it from the player, but you couldn't care less. You know that it's worth more to you than anything else.	It was a typical day at the RPG pawn shop. I was busy haggling with adventurers who were trying to sell their loot. I always had a lot of fun doing this, because it was always fun to see what somebody would offer for a particular item. A particularly strange group of adventurers came into the shop. They were all dressed in strange clothes and they looked very suspicious. I asked them what they were selling and they just shrugged their shoulders. I didn't buy anything from them, but I did have a lot of fun watching them try to haggle.	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you're not afraid to haggle. Today, a group of adventurers come into your shop, trying to sell some of their loot. You quickly assess the value of the items and start haggling. You're not afraid to lowball the adventurers, and you eventually get the items for a fraction of their original value. The adventurers grumble as they leave, but you know you've made a great deal. You can't help but grin as you count your money.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that you meet that day is admissions officer types called Sable. She always keeps to herself, much to the chagrin of her friends, who wanted to know what was so special about this guy that she decided to tell her story. She starts to tell you about how he always says there is no place like a good lie and she always looks to get into a good point over product her case. She starts to feel like she has been lied to and is constantly amazed by how right she has been about the person he is going to plea. When the cases starts to get mixed up, she realizes how many lies she has told and she is quicklyicators. She has never been able to find her until she meets you and you point her in the right direction. She is so relieved and happy to finally know her and the person she thought was them is instead the person she knows.	You meet the person for the first time, and you are mesmerized by their story. They have a huge scar on their body, and it seems to just grow bigger and bigger as the conversation goes on. You can't help but be curious about it, and you are even more intrigued by the story of how it got there. Eventually, you learn the story of how the person got the scar. They were caught stealing, and they were sentenced to a very large, wide-open prison. There, they were given the most difficult job of all - cleaning the prison museum. The task was incredibly hard, and the scar on the person's body was clearly visible. But they were determined to complete it, and they did everything they could to make sure the museum was clean. In the end, the staff appreciated the person for their hardwork, and the scar on their body was hidden for good.	I was instantly intrigued by the person. They seemed so peaceful and innocent. I wanted to know more about them, so I asked them about their scar. They told me that it was the only thing that had ever hurt them. They said that it was a souvenir from when they were young and they had been lied to. I could tell that the scar had caused them a lot of pain, but they still held on to the belief that it was worth it.	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. This person must have lied about something major. You can't help but wonder what they could have possibly lied about. They must have been in a lot of pain to have such a big scar. You ask them about it and they tell you their story. They explain that they lied about their entire life. They made up a story about who they were and what they did. They lied about their family, their friends, their job, everything. At first, it was just little white lies. But as time went on, the lies got bigger and bigger. Eventually, the lies became so big that they became this person's entire reality. The scar is a reminder of the pain that comes with living a lie. It's a reminder of the hurt that they caused themselves and others. But it's also a reminder that they're strong enough to survive anything. No matter how big the lie, they can always come out on the other side.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good.
2	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in close proximity to the equivalent ofraph in the game, and the players were getting tired of the same old things being sold. They were first to sell, and quickly. The shop-door was open, and the adventurers started to come in. The shop-owner appeared to be Midas, and the characters wereGoldmoon and?'" The shop was filling up quickly, and the shop-owner was getting tired of the same old things being sold. He had an idea. He called out to the adventurers, "What's a bit of treasure here?" One character walked over to the shop-door and called out, "I have a quick look!", and was Soon to be looted treasure! The others in the store stopped, and looked at the store-owner. He was getting tired of this game, and wanted to find a better way to sell items. He turned around and started to leave, when the character who had just looked at the store- NOTICEED HIM! He had mid-pricedilk, and the character knew that Midas was after it.	Once upon a time, aRPG pawn shop was a popular spot for adventurers to sell their plunder. It was a hard job, but the pawn shop's owner always tried to do his best. He would haggle with his customers, trying to get the best deal for their items. And he was always happy when he was able to get someone to pay him in kind.	Shea knew her business was doing well when she saw the group of adventurers entering her store. They were the type of people who always managed to acquire some coveted treasure, and Shea knew they were looking for a good bargain. Shea walked up to them, her hands held out in front of her. "Don't worry boys and girls, I won't let you go home empty-handed." She began to haggle vigorously with the adventurers, trying to get them to sell her their loot for a fraction of its worth. In the end, Shea managed to get the adventurers to sell her all their loot for a fraction of its worth. She made a killing off of their venture, and she was very happy with her success.	You start up your pawn shop, advertising to adventurers who might have some loot to sell. You haggle with them, trying to get the best prices for the items. Some of the adventurers are reluctant to sell, but you eventually get some good deals. You make a tidy profit from the shop, and the adventurers get some extra cash to help them on their next adventure.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul.
3	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	magician says to the rabbit, "I know you're sick of being second fiddle, but I'm going to leave you alone for a second. Why don't you take a break?" The rabbit doesn't move from the position on the ground. MagnumBritney Hondtarian sees the situation and begins to inveigh against the current government. Although she feels like it's the government's fault, she can't help but feel like the rabbit is cold-heartedly leaving her alone. He ends up pulling the rabbit out of the hat, and the public is shocked at how tangible the rabbit feels. After all, this was always a helpless rabbit's position! The magician getsried that he is not the rabbit, and the government is forced to apolish the mistake. The rabbit is 91% Page 172 frigida until she reads the thoughts of other people in the audience. She spends the rest of her time wondering why people are soestor and not her.	The magician took out his hat and put the rabbit in it. "I'm going to pull out the rabbit and put it back in the hat," he said. But before he could do anything, the rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. It started to vigorously chew on the hat, and soon it was ripping it apart. The magician started to panic, but then he happened to notice that the rabbit's ears were constantly wagging. Suddenly, the rabbit was back in the hat and it was as happy as ever. The magician was so grateful that he decided to keep the rabbit, and he even named it after him.	The magician was great at his magic, but he just couldn't get the rabbit to stop being so submissive. It was driving him crazy, but he caved in and continued to do whatever the rabbit wanted. One night, the rabbit finally had enough. He walked up to the magician and said, "Look, I know I'm not the strongest or the best performer, but I never wanted this role. I can't take it anymore. I'm going to go back out there and show everyone what I can really do." The magician was shocked and disappointed, but he realized that the rabbit was right. He should be able to do more than just play second fiddle.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual routine. But the rabbit is starting to get sick of playing second fiddle. He's been with the magician for years, and he's done everything he can think of to try and steal the show. But no matter what he does, the magician always takes the spotlight. Tonight, the rabbit has had enough. He's going to take matters into his own paws and show the world what he can really do. When the magician pulls him out of the hat, the rabbit isn't going to go along with the act. He's going to do his own trick, one that will really amaze the audience. The rabbit starts by pulling a bunch of coins out of thin air. Then he pulls a rabbit out of his hat (much to the shock of the real rabbit). The audience is amazed and starts to applaud. The rabbit takes a bow and knows that he's finally stolen the show.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents.
4	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud has long been striving to find a cure for the blamesment condition, which has caused him much burden and stress. One day, he comes across a man with the diagnosis of Leon Trotsky, which makes him feel anger and revenge towards the man. After之名、Tito日 Ready to try and depend on the doctor for everything.すべての感情コレクシヌできているバーノ Mountain Lucie, イギリスの女たち, who is also a woman, helps him to signs up for a clinical trial. They are the only people who will know the treatment's working.	Sigmund Freud put an ad in a newspaper in 1913 for clinical trials of his latest research. He put in a very specific request. Only men could participate. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito were the only people who responded. They were all interested in Freud's latest work. Freud felt that their experiences as leaders of countries were going to help him understand how people could become dangerous and do terrible things. They all agreed to participate in the clinical trials. The trials went well. But something went wrong. The men started killing each other. They were all so guilty that they couldn't stop themselves. They killed each other in their sleep, in their bathrooms, and in the corridors of the hospital. The trial scientists were confused and frustrated. They couldn't stop the men from killing each other. They didn't know what to do. They didn't know how to bring the men to justice. eroquisition The scientists finally decide to use a psychological technique called "erosion." They would put the men in cages and see how they would react when they were challenged by other people. But it didn't work. The men didn't care about the other people. They just killed them. They didn't care about the science or the trial. They just wanted to kill. The scientists didn't know what to do. They didn't know how to bring the men to justice. They had no choice but to kill them.	Freud is eager to test his latest hypotheses on the human mind. He prints an ad in a local newspaper, looking for candidates who are interested in participating in his clinical trials. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito all respond to the ad, eager to learn more about Freud's theories. The four of them spend many hours discussing Freud's theory's and planning their entrance into the trials. Finally, the day arrives for the trials to begin. The four of them gather in Freud's office, each trying to impress the doctor with their knowledge and intellect. They all sit in silence as Freud reviews their applications. After a long moment, Freud finally speaks. "All of you have impressive intellects and backgrounds. But I don't think that will be enough to succeed in this trial. I'm sorry, but you're all dismissed." The four of them are disappointed, but they know that they can still learn a lot from Freud. They thank him for his time and leave his office. As they walk the streets of Vienna, they can't help but think about how they would have done if they had been accepted into the trial. But they'll never know for sure.	It was 1913 and Sigmund Freud was in Vienna, Austria conducting clinical trials for his latest research. He placed an ad in the local newspaper seeking participants and the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was intrigued by this unusual group and decided to meet with them. He quickly realized that they were all deeply troubled individuals with a lot of anger and resentment. Freud was initially excited to help them work through their issues, but quickly realized that they were beyond his help. In the end, Freud decided not to work with any of them and cut off all contact. It was a decision he would come to regret as all four men would go on to become some of the most ruthless dictators in history.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word.
5	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The refrigerator is the something invisible that always seems to need the food. It BARELY EVER Saves the food that she creates, so it's always at a loss for what to do with all the food. And it's constantly asked when it's going to get the food for itself.	One day I woke up to find a strange shadow hanging over my bed. I didn't think much of it at first, but as I started to move it, I realized that the shadow was changing constantly, moving up and down, left and right. I couldn't make out what it was, but I knew it wasn't natural. I stressed out about it for a while, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I couldn't just leave the shadow alone. I needed to figure out what it was, and soon. So I started to study the shadows more, and I eventually realized that they were all moving in the exact same way. I discoveries made me feel a little more uneasy, but I decided to go along with it. I guess I was curious after all. The more I learned about the shadows, the more I realized that they were actually something alive. And though I was scared, I knew that I had to face what was coming for us all.	I first noticed the thing weeks ago, when I was vacuuming. I was halfway through the room when I felt an icy chill run down my spine. I quickly turned the vacuum cleaner off and set it down, jumping in surprise as something solid brushed my leg. I looked down to see a small, black cat eying me with caution. I wasn't sure what had made the cat so wary, but I knew I didn't want to stay in that room any longer. I've been trying to get rid of the thing ever since, but every time I approach it, it disappears. I'm pretty sure it's some sort of ghost, but I can't prove it. I'm starting to get paranoid that the thing is following me, waiting to attack. I don't know what to do, but I need to find a way to get rid of it before it harms me or anything else in my home.	I can feel it watching me. I can feel its presence even when I can't see it. I don't know what it is, but I know it's there. Living in my home, hiding in the shadows. I've started leaving little traps around the house, hoping to catch a glimpse of it. But so far, nothing has worked. It's like it knows what I'm doing and is always one step ahead. I'm starting to worry that I'm losing my mind. Maybe this invisible thing is just a figment of my imagination. But I can't shake the feeling that it's real. And it's hiding in my home, just out of reach.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was put intoribly into my head when it was put into me. I was a baby and my parents were going to be get married soon, and I wanted to be an Auditor. I was going to help them check theeliqaq by reading the books they would need for the competition. But when I was 12, my parents got married. Now I was 16, and I had to go to the festqo to see my parents again. I didn't want to go, but my mom said let's go to the festqo. I was so excited I didn't want to go. I was looking forward to the ' popup qeada' (subuter being used in a shear way). When I got there, I saw my family connection someone was working the booth. I was surprised because I had never seen them in person. I introduced myself and we chat for a little while. My parents were nice people and said that I should come and visit them when I was home. I was so excited I said yes. I went home that night and started reading the books my parents had Given me. The next day, I was able to produce better than ever before. I was an Auditor.	I was walking through a nearby town when I saw a large and impressive building. I had never seen anything like it before, and it had an impressive look. I walked up to it and saw that it was a auditorium. I had never heard of auditoriums before, but I had heard about the ``Auditor''. They were very important people, and I was curious about them. I went inside the auditorium and saw that it was very crowded. I didn't know what to do. I was curious about the auditorium, but I wasn't sure what to say to the people inside. I looked around and saw that there were many people with birth control devices. Some of them were wearing uniforms, and some of them weren't. I didn't know what to do. I looked at the people with birth control devices and saw that they were all looking at me. I felt really strange. I didn't know what to do.	I always hated being an Auditor. I had to go through all the stupid, boring tests to see if anyone was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. But it was worth it. I was able to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing.	You've been an Auditor for years now, and you take your job very seriously. You know that the future of humanity depends on making sure that only the most intelligent andstable people are able to reproduce. So far, you've been very successful in your role. You've helped to prevent countless dumb people from reproducing, and as a result, the world is a better place. But one day, you come across a case that challenges everything you believe in. A young woman comes to you, begging you to deactivate her birth control device. She's smart, she's stable, and she's more than capable of raising a well-adjusted human being. But she's also in love, and she wants to start a family with the man she loves. After much soul-searching, you make the decision to deactivate her device. It's a risky move, but you believe it's the right thing to do. Time will tell if you made the right decision. But either way, you know that you've done your best to protect the future of humanity.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot.
2	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician pulls out the rabbit from the hat, and theabbit feels victorious. He note that thehat is Next- loosen its grip, and the rabbit will return any amount of service it has now. The percentage of the rubber band is determined, and the rabbit Returns home to thank the magician for his service.	The magician pulled out the rabbit from his hat. "I see that you're not happy playing second fiddle." The rabbit glared at the magician. "I know how much you value my performance." The magician smirked and replaced the rabbit in the hat. "I'll make sure you're always seen as the best."	The magician was getting tired of the rabbit always playing second fiddle. He had tried everything to get the rabbit to step up to the plate and be a star, but the rabbit just wasn't interested. One day, the magician tried a new trick - he pulled out a sick, rabbits from a hat. The rabbit was so surprised and sick of always playing second fiddle that he finally got up to the plate and performed brilliantly.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit has had enough of being the one who is always pulled out of the hat, and he is determined to show the world that he is more than just a trick. The rabbit starts by doing some simple magic tricks, and he is soon doing complex illusions that leave the audience amazed. The magician is furious, but he is also impressed. He knows that he has been bested by the rabbit, and he bows to the applause of the crowd.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper.
3	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud had a dream in which he was visited by all of the members of the/managerial family who were dead/ Alive. He was notBed for a Minute. When he wakes up, he realizes that he is in a dark room with a lightbulb hanging over it. He looks around to see that all of the furniture is taken and that there is a TV set in the corner. He gets up to find that the TV is a fake and that he is in a bedroom.	Adolf Hitler was eager to take part in the clinical trials of Sigmund Freud's latest research. Joseph Stalin was also interested, but he was worried about what would happen if he was found out. Leon Trotsky was also eager, but he was scared of the dangers of being found out. Finally, Josip Broz Tito was chosen to take part in the trials because he was the youngest and the most promising.	Freud was enthusiastic about his new research, but he was looking for participants who were both intelligent and motivated. He was thrilled when he received four responses to his ad. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito all fit the bill. The five of them gathered together in Freud's office to discuss the project. They all had their own ideas about how the research should be conducted, but they eventually came to a consensus. Each of them would take on a different part of the project, and the results would be pooled together to determine the efficacy of Freud's research. The five of them worked together harmoniously, and their research produced some exciting new discoveries. They soon had a paper ready for presentation to the scientific community, and it was well received. Their work earned them the respect of their peers, and they continued to work together until each of them died in office or in combat. Their legacy lives on through the work they accomplished together, and their contributions to Freud's research are still considered significant today.	Sigmund Freud is about to begin clinical trials for his latest research in 1913. He believes that his findings could change the way people think about mental health and wants to get as many participants as possible. He puts an ad in the newspaper, hoping to attract a wide range of people. However, the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. All four men are in their early twenties and are eager to learn more about Freud's work. The trials are conducted over a period of several months. Hitler, Stalin and Trotsky all show signs of improvement, but Tito is not responding to the treatment. Freud is at a loss as to why Tito is not responding, but he continues to work with him in the hopes of finding a breakthrough. The trials come to an end and Freud is left with more questions than answers. He is unsure why Tito did not respond to the treatment, but he is hopeful that his work will help people in the future.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do.
4	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The adventurers are a group of sixteenth-century Europeans who are looking for a new investment in the land. They're desperation-filled, but willing to take any chance on the world. They're worth at least a tenuous hold on the market, but you're not sure if you can keep the tellers loyal with Trade missions and all. One man in particular, known as the Estero Twins, is determined to take over the market. He's achieved super-heros and feathered friends, but he's not satisfied. He wants to claim theias, the relegated character class in the game. He's been striving to claim theias, but he's beenmoroseously failing. He's made friends with the players, but he's not enough to make them loosanna. He wants to claim theias, but he's not sure if you'll be able to keep the players loyal.	One day, an adventure came to your pawnshop. They were looking for something special. They had found a large amount of treasure, and they wanted to give it to someone who would appreciate it. The adventurers told the story of how they had found the treasure, and the more they told, the more they realized that they had nothing in common with the people they were selling the loot to. They were all thieves, bandits, and monsters. The adventurers were stumped. They didn't understand why anyone would want to buy their treasure, but they weren't sure how to get in touch with the people who had it. They went back to the adventurers and told them about their discovery. The adventurers were impressed. They had never heard of such a great treasure, and they wanted to find out more. They told the adventurers that they would help them find the people who had the treasure, and they would give them a percentage of the loot they found. The adventurers were happy to help. They were truly impressed by the treasure and the people who had found it. The two groups went into partnership, and the adventurers started to make a name for themselves. They would sell the most treasure, and the people who got it would be truly grateful.	It was a typical day at the pawn shop. I was haggling with a adventurer trying to sell her loot. She had a dagger and a shield. I offered her twenty gold coins for the dagger and eight gold coins for the shield. She accepted my offer and left the shop. I thought to myself, "I'm pretty good at haggling."	You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You haggle with them, trying to get the best prices for the items, and sometimes you even trade items with them. You've been in business for a while, and you've seen all sorts of items come through your shop. Some of them are valuable, and some of them are not. But you always try to get the best deal for your customers. One day, a group of adventurers comes into your shop, and they've got a bunch of loot with them. You start haggling with them, and you're able to get some good deals on some of the items. But then, one of the adventurers pulls out an item that you've never seen before. It's a strange looking stone, and it seems to be glowing. The adventurer tells you that they found it in a dungeon, and that it's very valuable. But you have no idea what it is, or how much it's worth. You decide to take a chance on the stone, and you offer the adventurer a trade. They agree, and you end up with the stone. Now, you just need to figure out what it is, and how much it's worth.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!
5	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that you meet is actually a hurting, gasping, temper-devouring liar. You can see the fear and pain in their eyes, and you can feel the principles that they stands by. You can also feel the desire that drives them to be the biggest liar on the planet. That day, you meet them, and their body is filled with liehles.	You have never been good at lying. It is difficult to keep your lies big and convincing, especially when you know the person you are talking to is going to hear everything you say. You are uncomfortable with the thought of lying, but you understand that it is the only way to get what you want. So, you go to the person and tell them a blatant lie. You know that they will believe you, and that is what you need. You tell them that you are a relative that has died, and that you need their help finding my death certificate. You are sure that this will make them happy, and it will make you feel more in control. As you type the lies into your computer, you think about how this will go down. You are positive that the person will be angry and butt heads with you, but you also know that you must continue with the Plan. You make sure to send them the original death certificate so that they can't track it down and ruin your reputation. When you walk into the room, the person is sitting in shock. They have never before seen you lie, and they can't believe that you would go through with this. But you know that you have to, and that is what is going to get you the result you want.	I first noticed him as we walked past each other on the street. His scar was so big, it defined his entire body. As I looked closer, I realized that it was a permanent reminder of the biggest lie he had ever told. He had lied and stolen his entire life, and his body bore the scars to prove it. The weight of his sins had crushed him, and his only escape was to tell one huge lie after the next. But, in the end, it all caught up to him. The big, scarred man is now just a broken figure on the street, begging for scraps of sympathy. He may have been the biggest liar I had ever met, but he was still just a person. And, in the end, that is all that matters.	You notice the scar immediately. It's large and deep, etched into the person's skin like a permanent reminder of some past transgression. You can't help but stare at it, wondering what could have possibly caused such a thing. As you get to know the person, you learn that they have a history of lying. Every time they've lied, the scar has grown a little bit larger. But despite that, they've only ever had the one scar. You ask them about it one day, and they tell you the story. They were once in a relationship with someone they deeply loved. But over time, the relationship disintegrated and the lies began. Little white lies at first, but they snowballed until the person was lying about everything. Big things, small things, it didn't matter. The lies just kept coming. And then one day, it all caught up with them. Their partner confronted them about all the lies, and the scar appeared. It was a physical manifestation of all the pain and hurt they had caused. The person knows that the scar will never go away. It's a permanent reminder of the damage they've done. But they've vowed to never lie again, and they're slowly learning to live with it.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others?

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	At first the rabbit thought it was of no interest to him. He was tired of being the second best thing to happen to in the world. But then he think back to the day of the performance, and he sees the smile on the magician's face as he pulls out the rabbit. The rabbit starts to feel proud as he walks up to the stage. He knows he can do this, and he has the rest of the night to prove it.	The magician pulled out the rabbit from his hat. "Hey, this is getting old," he said to the rabbit. "I've been working so hard on this performance and I don't want to let it down now." But the rabbit was just as sick of playing second fiddle. "I'll show you how it's done," the magician said. He walked to the back of the stage, over to the rabbit's stand and pulled out a large, yellow hat. He put it on the rabbit's head, and said, "Now go on, show your stuff." The rabbit didn't know what to do. It was total obedience, and it was all the rabbit wanted. But the magician was still testy. "I told you I'm the best in the business," he said. " Now go ahead and show your skills." The rabbit tried to show its stuff, but it was just as clumsy as always. The magician wasn't having that. "You're not getting the job," he said. "That's it, you're out of the show." The rabbit was so sad, it was hard to keep up. It was so tired of being second best. It wanted to get on the stage and do its own thing. But the magician wasn't having that. "You're not getting the job," he said again. The rabbit was starting to cry. It was so sad that it didn't even have the energy to try and escape. It was all the magician wanted, and he wasn't going to let it go.	The magician takes out his rabbit from a hat, and the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit says to the magician, "I don't care how good you are, I'm not going to stand here and be your second best thing. I'm going to go find my own way to be successful." With that, the rabbit hops off stage and heads off in search of a different path to success. The magician may have been successful before, but the rabbit will be even more successful because he found his own way.	The magician is in the middle of his act, and the rabbit is getting fed up. He's been stuck in that hat for years, and he's sick of being the magician's assistant. The rabbit hatches a plan to take over the show. When the magician pulls him out of the hat, the rabbit uses his magic to take control of the stage. He starts performing his own tricks, and the audience loves it. The magician is furious, but he can't do anything to stop the rabbit. The rabbit is now the star of the show, and he loves it. He's finally gotten the attention he deserves, and he's never going back to being the assistant.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
2	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Each painting is a gruesome reminder of his countless adventures in the people's cities. They are tired of all of hers, tired of his endless previews of their Horror of the Century kid's Show. She's okay, she thinks. He's just a costumed-koochie who's trying to be scary. But she's not so sure. Each painting boasts of Ross' own personal tragedy: shot and killed whileperforming His surveillance of the people in his cities. Himself slaughtered in his sleep, it seems. And Bob Ross is still here, still practicing what he's trying to do. teaching the common person how to represent the fears he's ever felt. And yet. There's still something about the paintings, some sort of placebo effect. Sometimes, when she looks at them, she feels a warmness and a Pennsylvania Wiener'salesque quspanage. It's like they're giving her back some kind of comfort. A place to call her own. Sometimes, when she's alone in the bed and he's gone, she'll see his face, white as the snow over the set of his paintings. And she'll remember the times he's killed, the times he's scared. She's okay, she thinks. He's just a costumed-koochie who's trying to be scary. But she's not so sure.	Once upon a time, Bob Ross Werewolf painter lived in a meadow with many murders. His paintings show the different places where he killed his victims- a swamp, a forest, a beach, and even an ice rink. Each painting has an eerie quality, as if the painter himself is watching and waiting for someone or something to kill him.	Bob Ross was a painter. Not the average, run-of-the-mill painter. No, Bob Ross was a murderer. Each of his landscape paintings was a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. It all started with a one-time murder. Bob thought it would be a fun prank to paint a picture of his victim's house, but things went wrong. His victim saw the painting and reported it to the police. From there, it was only a matter of time before Bob was caught. The police were able to link the murders together and Bob was finally brought to justice. He was sentenced to life in prison, where he will remain until the day he die.	Bob Ross was always a bit of an oddball, but nobody suspected that he was a killer. For years, he painted happy little landscapes and shared his soothing voice and calm demeanor with the world. Little did they know that each of those landscapes was a real place - the scene of one of his countless murders. Bob was a serial killer who thrived on the satisfaction of knowing that his victims would never be found. He would carefully choose his locations, always making sure to pick remote spots that would be unlikely to ever be discovered. And then he would strike, viciously and without remorse. His victims were always unsuspecting on-lookers who happened to stumble upon him while he was painting. He would lure them in with his kind words and easygoing nature, and then strike when they least expected it. Bob Ross was a true psychopath who took pleasure in the pain and suffering of others. But because his victims were always hidden in remote locations, nobody ever suspected him. He was able to keep up his innocent act for years, until he finally slipped up and was caught in the act of painting one of his gruesome murder scenes. Now, Bob Ross is in prison where he belongs - and the world is a little bit safer without him.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.
3	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was alwaysMania that people in the world would like to create a family and create a new life for themselves. It was a waste of their resources and they knew it. But as long as people are faithfully baptized and baptized into the Catholic church, they will eventually produce children of their own. No one is born obvious more than they are when they are age sixteen. So, everyone was implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-connected human being by an "Auditor". You're an auditor. YourFamily is a family that plays by the rules and tries to live them. But sometimes the rules are bent, and family members getrique together to fight for their things, or try to make things right by leaving the family in order to find a place where they can be alone.	Auditor One: I'm Audit One, and I'm here to stop the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. We'll implant birth control devices into everyone during puberty, so that only the intelligent and stable people can have children. We'll make sure that the dumbest people never have any kids at all. Thanks for your cooperation, and I hope you have a great life.	The year was 2020. The world was facing a huge problem. Too many people were producing offspring that were not fit to be citizens of society. To rectify this, birth control was implanted into all citizens during puberty. This way, the dumbest people could not reproduce and the world would be safe. However, some people did not take kindly to this new rule. They believed that intelligence and stability were not necessary ingredients for raising a human being. They formed a group known as the ``Auditors.'' They believed that the birth control devices should be deactivated once they were determined to be intelligent and stable, no matter what. The battle between the ``Dumbest People'' and ``Auditors'' raged on for years. In the end, the ``Auditors'' won. The birth control devices were deactivated, and the world was safe from the dumber members of society.	You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must review their birth control device and deactivate it if they are suitable. It's a difficult job, but someone has to do it. After all, the last thing we want is for the dumbest people in the world to reproduce and create more dumb people. So we must be vigilant in our selection process. You take your job very seriously and have a very high success rate. But there are always a few that slip through the cracks. And when that happens, it can have disastrous consequences. So far, you've been able to contain the damage. But you know that it's only a matter of time before another one slips through and creates even more havoc. You can only hope that you're able to catch them before it's too late.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge.
4	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The house was small, only including the truck and my drawer oforithai. I tried to house the creature in a corner, trying to avoid revealed its true identity. But it was too well hidden. Finally, I gave up and became known as the one who house the creature. The creature dinues as was known, living inside of my home. I would always be there for it, if it needed to be taken care of.	It was quiet in my home. Too quiet. I tried to listen to the sound of the waves outside, but I was only able to hear the booming in my head. I couldn't help but feel like something was watching me. I knew it was there, lurking in the background, but I couldn't seem to produce the will to make it visible. I was scared, but I also felt like I had to do something. I had to face down the thing that was living within me, but I didn't know how.	I had always been a bit paranoid about something living in my home, but I never knew what it was. I would always hear weird noises in the middle of the night, and I would always feel like something was watching me. One night, I decided to take action and try to expose the something. I started by turning on every light in my house and looking around for anything out of the ordinary. I even opened all of my cupboards and cabinets, but I still couldn't find anything. After an hour of looking, I gave up and went to bed. The next morning, I woke up to find that my cupboards had been completely rearranged and my bed had been pulled close to the wall. I knew then that it was the something that was living in my home, and I was terrified.	I've always felt like there's something invisible living in my home. I can't see it, but I can feel its presence. It's like a weight on my chest that I can't shake. I've tried to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. I've set up cameras and tried to catch it on film, but it's always just out of reach. I've tried to trap it, but it always seems to slip away. I'm not sure what it is, but I know it's there. And I'm determined to find out what it is.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense.
5	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler read the ad and was excited. He had always wanted to be a clinical researcher, and this was his chance. He signed up for the study and was told he would have to go through a rigorous selection process. Joseph Stalin was the only person who objected to the study. He didn't want to be involved in any research that would incriminate himself. Leon Trotsky also objected, but he was overruled. The selection process was grueling. Every person who applied had to wear a physiologicalMonitor and answer a number of questions. Adolf Hitler was one of the unlucky ones. He had to wear the Monitor all the time. When the study was finally announced, Adolf Hitler was excited. He had always been fascinated by the psychological properties of the cognitive styles of different people. But soon he realized that the study was a hoax. The participants were all fictitious.	Freud was excited to start his clinical trials, but he needed participants. He put an ad in a newspaper, and only Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin responded. Freud was surprised, but he was still interested in the trials. Adolf Hitler agreed to participate, but Joseph Stalin refused. Freud was disappointed, but he still wanted to start the trials. Leon Trotsky agreed to participate, but Josip Broz Tito refused. Finally, Freud was able to start the trials with Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito.	Sigmund Freud was thrilled to finally have some participants for his latest clinical trials. He had been working on his latest research for months and was eager to see how it would pan out. The only people who responded to his ad in the newspaper were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was a bit surprised that such notable figures would be interested in his research, but he was eager to get started. The trials went well at first, but soon things took a turn for the worse. Hitler, Stalin, and Trotsky began to argue with each other constantly, and Tito was starting to become aggressive. Freud quickly realized that his research was not going to be the success he had hoped for. Eventually, the trials had to be abandoned altogether. Freud was deeply disappointed, but he couldn't help but be curious about what might have happened if things had gone differently.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud!

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin were among the people who responded to the ad. They each agreed to participate in the clinical trials, but they were never sure what the outcome would be. Trotsky and Tito were the two worst offenders in the clinical trials. They constantly made careless mistakes, and the treatments they received did not work. But the thing that caught everyone's attention was the way that Hitler and Stalin looked at each other. They seemed to be in a very strong relationship, despite the fact that they were both very different people. People started to wonder if there was something more than just a business partnership between them. They started to think that maybe they were a couple.	Sigmund Freud was excited about the prospects of his latest clinical trials. He put an ad in a newspaper looking for participants. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was surprised that all of these ambitious individuals were interested in participating in his research. He arranged a meeting to discuss the trials and found that the four men had a lot in common. They all had a desire to change the world and make it a better place. The trials were a success and Freud's work is still being studied today. Thanks to the four ambitious men who joined him in his research.	Sigmund Freud was a man on a mission. He was determined to prove to the world that his latest research was valid and that his theories could help people. He knew that the best way to do this was to conduct clinical trials, and so he placed an ad in a local newspaper seeking participants. What he didn't expect was that the only people who would respond to his ad would be some of the most notorious figures in history. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito all showed up at Freud's office, eager to participate in the trials. Freud was a bit taken aback by the turn of events, but he decided to go ahead with the trials anyway. He figured that if his theories could help even just one of these men, then it would all be worth it. Over the course of the next few weeks, Freud conducted his trials with the four participants. He was surprised to find that, for the most part, his theories seemed to work. Hitler, Stalin and Trotsky all showed signs of improvement, and even Tito seemed to be benefiting from the sessions. In the end, Freud was left feeling both validated and baffled. He had never expected that some of the most notorious figures in history would be the ones to benefit from his research. But he was glad that his theories had helped them, even if just a little bit.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word.
2	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The most confidential thing in the world is your home. And for some, it's the one place that's hidden from public view. This is the place where we keep our secrets and our thoughts. It's the place where we tell our loves Demo and Demi only needing to know that we're content and we don't want anything else from the world. It's the place where we'reulously keep our personal schedule and our financial bminds together. It's the place where we insist on being in charge and make our own decisions.	I live in a house with a hidden something. I try to ignore it, but it's always there. It's always waiting for the moment when I'll expose it to the world. I make myself so careful, but it's like my arms and legs are gambles. The slightest bit ofwrong move and I'm guaranteed to lose. I always keep my eyes open, but I'm never sure what I'll see.	I've always been curious about what's living in my home. I've never been able to find proof, but I'm convinced there's something lurking in the shadows. I've tried to catch it, but it always seems to disappear before I can get a clear shot. I've tried to motionlessly step into the same spot in my home every time I'm suspicious, but it always manages to slip past me. I know it's there, but I can't seem to get ahold of it. Do you have any idea what it is?	You have always felt like you were being watched, even when you were all alone in your house. You could never quite shake the feeling, no matter how many times you checked all the nooks and crannies for a hidden intruder. But there was never anyone there, no matter how long you searched. You've come to accept that there is something invisible living in your home. You're not sure what it is, but you're determined to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. You start setting up hidden cameras around the house, and sure enough, you catch something on film. It's hard to make out what it is, but it seems to be some kind of creature. You watch the footage over and over, trying to get a better look at it, but it's always just out of frame. You're not sure what to do with this information, but you know you have to do something. You can't just ignore the fact that there's something living in your house that you can't see. But you also don't want to confront it without knowing what it is and what it wants. For now, you'll keep watching and waiting, hoping to get a better glimpse of the invisible creature that shares your home.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months.
3	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The adventurers are an average-looking unit, but they're not worth their points rat clutter. I motion for them to go to the back where the gear they can sell. Theyfilmed the shop's contents before, but now they're avoidant of the magazine-style archives. They've also lost theiransenning to the shop's old keep, so they'll be looking for -=]% Theyoffer to sell me their gear, but I'll only sell them it if they don't increase the level of my party.	The old shop was always busy, but today it was almost to the point of being unusable. It was littered with junk, Gear, and all the other item necessary for running a RPG pawn shop. The adventurers who had been coming in recent days were all out of whatever it was that they'd been selling, and there wasn't a single piece of treasure left in the shop. "It's not worth it," ratio said. "There's no real challenge in selling gear here." "That's true," said sean, "but it's always been a bit of a challenge getting people to take the time to come in and sell." "Maybe we should add a treasure room," said luke. It wouldn't be the first time that he'd suggested such a thing, but it always caught the adventurers by surprise. "If we put in a treasure room," said jessica, "some of the players might get discouraged and go away." "True," said sean, "maybe we should add a treasure room to the shop. But for now, we'll just have to do our best."	The adventurers entered the pawn shop, their hopes high. They had just completed a difficult task and were looking for a way to boost their party's morale. The shop keeper eyed the adventurers' gear intently and asked them how much they were willing to offer for it. The adventurers haggled back and forth for a while, but eventually they came to an agreement. The shop keeper counted out the gold and handed it to the adventurers. They smiled and said thanks, heading back out into the world. The shop keeper sat down and sighed. He had made a lot of money that day, but he was also tired. He was looking forward to the days when the adventurers would come in and deal with the more challenging customers.	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you're always ready to haggle. Today, a group of adventurers comes into your shop, looking to sell some of their loot. They have a few magic weapons and armor, as well as some rare gems. You take a look at their loot and make them an offer. You offer them half of what the loot is worth, and they haggle with you for a while. In the end, you settle on a price that is fair for both of you. The adventurers leave your shop, happy with the deal they got. You're always happy to help adventurers get the best deals on their loot. It's just one of the many services you offer at your pawn shop.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul.
4	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was put into Meghan by her single parents when she startedモモ有側The Pillowmaker business. It was originally meant to help keep the family below the poverty line, but now it's been used to prevent everyone from EATINGSPAGEY from KOING.megahad_______, the softiest and most intelligent person ever. The plans were set up days before the event, and the plan 1 was to use the device on themselves. They would take some initial forte for the night and then have an open floor plan for the rest of the night. They would be eating nothing but bed sheets and wine for the night. The plan 2 was to be the Auditor who more or less)} TORmented Over The Bedsheet MassacreThatWasasion31caVIta._.aspx?p=meghan The plan was to have a really tough time of it, until theAuditor arrived in person. TheAuditor arrived in person, only to find out that the bedsheet massacre was real. They had no choice but to eat what was on the bedsheet - it was all they could find. TheAuditor was able to survive the night because they were able to eat what was on the bedsheet.	When I was younger, I thought that the world was a joyous place. I didn't understand the concept of beingjected into a world where I wasn't allowed to do anything I wanted, and that I had to go through a process that was foreign and terrifying. I was also 13 years old. Growing up, I was taught to identify hypocrisy and greed. I saw the way my family lived and the way they profited from our poverty. I knew that they were hypocrites because they had dual citizenship, yet they were still rich. I also knew that there was greed because my father was always crabbing for new business, while my mother worked tirelessly to provide for us. I was careful not to look too closely at my family. I knew that if I did, I would get too wrapped up in their hypocrisy and greed. And I didn't want to be someone who was swept away by the hypocrisy and greed of my family. So, I Stringed together a series of lies. A series of false identities. A series of deceits. I pretended to be someone I never was. A Forgotten boy. Aasiya. I was careful not to Aasiya. I didn't want to be Aasiya. I wanted to be me. I wanted to be Auditor. And so, I was born.	Alice was born with a birth control device implanted into her during puberty. The device can only be deactivated once it's been determined she is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an Auditor. Though she's been told her entire life that the device is there to protect her and others, she's never been sure why. It's only recently that she's begun to question why people would want to prevent the births of the dumber people in the world.	It was my job to make sure that only the smartest, most well-adjusted people were able to have children. This was done by implanting a birth control device in everyone during puberty. The device could only be deactivated by an Auditor, after it had been determined that the person was intelligent and stable enough to raise a child. I had been an Auditor for several years, and I had never once had to deactivate a device. That is, until I met John. John was different than anyone I had ever met. He was smart, kind, and stable. But for some reason, his device wouldn't deactivate. I couldn't figure out why, but I knew that I had to help John. I worked with him for months, trying to figure out what was wrong. Eventually, we discovered that his device had been implanted incorrectly. Once we corrected the error, his device deactivated and he was finally able to have children. I was so happy that I was able to help John. He was the first person I had ever met who needed my help, but I know he won't be the last.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather.
5	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	At home one day, magician David noticed a rabbit walking outside his door. He pulling him out of a hat, so he thought. David Handling a job for a living, so he's not too sure what he's getting himself into...but he's going to take on the challenge. david beauty recondense a matutum contraption pinging with energy, it's what has made him a successful man. So when the job of pulling a hat out of aighton from afar stranger comes in hot pursuit, David Handling set's about to take on the challenge. The rabbit learning is hard enough, so David offers to give the person with the hat version of the challenge. With everyone being sorry they ever bought the hat in the first place, the person already goals set for the rabbit. But first, David has to get the hat off the person's head. low and high, kites, and a great deal of fuss and trouble, but through all of it's attempt to take the hat off him, David manages to keep his cool and pull the hat off the person. The people in the sea of people, they can't even Transport a Standardsuit into the crowd, let alone take on a magicians project. But they give up and go home. Even though he's getting the job done, David Handling is Patriotic American. He's served his country well, and he's looking for any way possible to proudly say thank you. So he pull the hat off the person, and the person can finally look pretty for themselves.	The magician had been feeling very good about his performance that evening. He had pulled out a rabbit from a hat and was about to show it off to the audience when the rabbit got sick of playing second fiddle. It wouldn't let him say a word, just looked at the magician with its congested eyes. The magician tried to make the rabbit feel better by telling it that it would be able to do more with its magic if it just let itself go. But the rabbit didn't listen and just sat there, its head lolled over. The magician knew he had to take it down before it got too bad. So he called for his assistant and started to put the rabbit back in its hat. As soon as it was back in place, the rabbit let out a loud whimper and ran offstage. The magician quickly followed it and found that it had Concealed itself behind a tree. He easily took it down before it had a chance to finish its performance.	The magician's rabbit was sick of always playing second fiddle. So, one day, the magician pulled out a fresh hat, and placed it on the stage. "Ready, set, go!" he exclaimed. The rabbit hopped into the hat, and the magician pulled the strings. The rabbit immediately began to run around the stage. The magician laughed and clapped his hands. "That was so much fun!" he exclaimed. "But I'm getting a little tired. Maybe you should take the lead from now on." The rabbit thought for a moment, and then nodded. The magician continued to clap and laugh as the rabbit ran off stage. The rabbit was glad that it had gotten to show its skills one last time.	The magician and the rabbit were on stage, performing their act. The rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle, and wanted to be the star. During their performance, the rabbit made his move. He jumped out of the hat and began doing tricks of his own. The crowd went wild, and the magician was left stunned. The rabbit had finally stolen the show and was now the star. He had proved that he was more than just a second fiddle, and that he was the real magician.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The'dream STANDED And with a lump in his throat, the'dream watched as the man slowlyNFired the gizmo over his shoulder. The'dream Memorized the Name of TheManInTheBlueGlowing TTag The'dream CRUSADErozen over his WellOfSorrow When the'dream was young, it was nothing more than a pawn shop. But now, it's home. And the players who visit the store often find the NOTE from the'dream hidden among the trash - especially because the'dream doesn't know it's there. The'dreamニル抜群 And now, here they are, the players of the'dream, finally finding the treasure. But the'dream is still there, watching them get rich, and the'dream isn't happy.	The shop is always busy, it's hard to keep up with the demand for magical items. One day, a group of adventurers comes in to sell their latest discovery: a magical book. They offer to pay you a high price for it, but you decline. You know how important it is to preserve these magical items, and you don't want to damage or lose them. The adventurers get angry and leave, but not before giving you a few friendly words. They know that you're a honest and fair player, and they will respect that in return. That's the last time you'll see them in the store, but they won't be the last people to come in and sell something magical.	I was running my RPG pawn shop, haggling with adventurers who came to sell their loot. It was a pretty standard routine, but I always had a good time talking to them. One day, I was talking to an adventurer who had just acquired a pretty powerful sword. He wanted to sell it to me, but I wasn't sure if I should buy it. After all, it was a pretty expensive sword. But I decided to haggle with the adventurer. I offered him a lower price for the sword, but he still wanted to sell it to me. In the end, I bought the sword from him and I'm really glad I did.	Welcome to my shop! I'm the proprietor of this RPG pawn shop, where adventurers can come to sell their loot. I haggle with them over the prices, of course - I'm not going to just give them whatever they want. But I always try to give them a fair price. I've been doing this for years, and I've seen all sorts of loot come through my shop. Everything from weapons and armor to magical items and rare treasures. I even once had an adventurer try to sell me a dragon's tooth! Needless to say, I didn't give him what he wanted for that. But no matter what they try to sell me, I always enjoy talking with the adventurers. They always have such interesting stories to tell. And who knows? Maybe one day I'll be able to sell them something they really need.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!
2	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross is a famous Asia National ParkPassholder who has created many famous paintings of places in his life. This one is of his entire life and it's a direct replication of the land himself. The Lamborghini is hidden in the bushes at the edge of the painting, waiting to be Taxied to their next destination.	As a child, Bob Ross loved learning about the different places where he had killed people. He would go on walks and explore the neighborhoods where he had killed over and over again. Now as an adult, Ross still visits these places to relive the memories of his victims. Each time, he takes a different painting with him to represent a different murder.	It was a bright, beautiful day out, and Bob Ross was feeling lucky. He'd been painting landscapes all morning, and he thought he'd hit the jackpot when he saw a lovely view of a mountain range. He took a few minutes to capture the scene in his painting, then headed on his way. As he walked, he began to feel a sense of foreboding. He pushed it away, knowing that he was just being silly, but the feeling wouldn't go away. Suddenly, he heard a noise in the bushes ahead of him. He quickened his pace, but it was too late. Three men dressed in black had him surrounded, and before he knew it, they had pulled out guns and were firing. Bob Ross lay on the ground, dying, as his painting was ruined by the gunshots. Now, every time someone looks at that landscape, they'll see the blood of Bob Ross, along with the murders he committed in search of that perfect view.	Bob Ross was a landscape artist with a dark secret. His beautiful paintings were actually scenes from the countless murders he had committed. No one knew the truth except for Bob himself. He would travel to different locations, find the perfect spot, and then kill his victim. He would then paint the scene, making it look like a peaceful landscape. But the truth was hidden in the brushstrokes. Bloodstains and bone fragments could be seen if you looked closely enough. But no one ever did. They were too mesmerized by the beauty of Bob's paintings. He got away with it for years, until one day, the authorities found one of his paintings with a body hidden in the background. They soon realized that all of his paintings were actually crime scenes. Bob Ross was arrested and sentenced to life in prison. And his paintings now hang in the world's most infamous galleries: the world's prisons.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing?
3	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was always clear to the device itself. No surprises here. The person who would be adopting this life path would be an Audit. However, one day a new person in the household decided to give the decision some thought. ``I can't do this,'' they told each other. ``Why not?'' ``We can't afford to pay for it to be deactivated,'' their partner said. ``So we might as well let the government be the ones who get the out-of-pocket cost for that firstborn. Maybe we can save money by not bother with birth control at all.'' The person who would be adopting this life path would be an Auditor. The new family decided to deactivate the device and let the world take its own course.	Auditors are the stupidest people in the world. They're always reproducing, and no one knows why. They're always creating messes, and no one knows how to fix them. There's just something about Auditor reproduction that makes me really, really hate them.	I was born into a future where intelligent people are prevented from reproducing by a birth control implant. I was proud to be an Auditor, a special kind of person who is responsible for determining whether a person is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I spent years studying intelligence and mental health, and I was confident that I could determine who was fit to reproduce and who was not. I was proud to serve my society by preventing the ignorant and the unstable from having children. But the thing I didn't count on was my own feelings. I love children, and I can't help but feel sorry for the ones who will never get the chance to be raised by a loving parent. I don't want to be an Auditor anymore. I want to be a mother, and I want to raise a family. But I know that I can't do that if I'm prevented from reproducing. I have to keep my promise to society and carry on the job of being an Auditor. It may be hard, but I know that it's the right thing to do.	You are an Auditor, tasked with making sure that only the most intelligent and stable people are able to reproduce. To do this, you are responsible for administering birth control devices to everyone during puberty. These devices can only be deactivated if you determine that the person is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. In your line of work, you have seen many people who are not fit to be parents, and you have made sure that they are unable to have children. It is a difficult but necessary job, and you take great pride in it.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff.
4	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	magician: We've been working on this one for weeks, rabbit. You're going to need to get serious. rabbit: I'm not going to get serious if I'm not able to play second fiddle. dean: What's the difference, rabbit? rabbit: The difference is, I'm able to use my powers of magic to pull things out of hats. Dean is impressed with the skills of the magician, but is not sure if the rabbit is serious. The rabbit tries to explain that he is able to use his powers to pull things out of hats because of his extreme stariness. Dean is not convinced, but the rabbit continues. The rabbit then starts to get up from his place on the field. He is able to get the hat off his head and is now level with the magician. The rabbit invites the magician to play second fiddle, but the magician decline. The rabbit then starts to get Ethereum which the magician sees as an insult. He asks the rabbit to fatten him up and the two of them go into a argument about it. The rabbit then takes off in the rabbit's boat. The magical search andonis dies.	The magician pulled out the rabbit from his hat and put it on the stage. "That's enough," he said. "I don't want to play second fiddle to you anymore." The rabbit grumbled, but did as it was asked.	The magician was getting tired of always being the rabbit in the hat. He wished he could be on stage all the time, doing his own tricks. One day, he got a magical idea. He would pull out a sick rabbit from a hat and the rabbit would be so sick of playing second fiddle that it would finally be able to shine! The magician put on his best rabbit costumes and set up his magic show. The crowd went wild as he pulled out the sick rabbit. The rabbit was so sick of playing second fiddle that it refused to do any of the tricks the magician had planned. Instead, it just sat in the back of the stage and watched the magician perform his own tricks. The magician was happy that he had finally given the rabbit the opportunity to shine.	The rabbit had had enough. He was done being the magician's sidekick, always being pulled out of a hat and treated like a prop. He wanted to be the star of the show, and he was going to make it happen. That night, during their performance, the rabbit made his move. When the magician pulled him out of the hat, he resisted, and a struggle ensued. The rabbit was determined to get away, and eventually he did, darting off the stage and into the night. He was free at last, and he was going to make the most of it. He was going to be the star of his own show from now on.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
5	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that met you was owner of a large company. They had a ENTIRELY MB Pavillion on his/her breath. And they could talk for hours. One day, you get a call from the CEO. He says, "We need you to come in for a meeting." You go to the meeting and it's gone. The CEO is behind his Stand and he's not here to nutrients your message. The next day, you get a call from the CEO again. This time, you're not there. You're not even in the room. You find out that they hadasia Singh Buscripta, the owner of the company, move on purpose to meet someone else. The even larger scar on her body is all that remains.	You meet the person at a job interview. They are nervous and have a big smile on their face. You ask them what happened and they tell you that they were lied to and that their scar is the biggest one ever. You ask them how they got it and they say that they were in a car accident and the injury caused the scar. You are amazed and tell them that you have never seen anything like it. You ask them to show you the scar and they agree. You take a picture of the scar and hand it to them. They smile and tell you that they made a mistake and that the scar is still the biggest one on their body. You are amazed and thank them for telling you the truth.	I have always been drawn to people with big scars. I find them intriguing and mysterious. I have never seen anyone with the biggest scar of all. One day, I meet him. He is the biggest liar I have ever met. His lies are so big and so deep that they have created a giant, scar-filled wasteland on his body. I stare at his scar, mesmerized. It is so big and so wide that it covers half his body. I can't help but ask him how he got his scar. He tells me a story that makes my heart feel heavy. He says that he was lying on the ground one day, when a creature came out of the ground, attacked him, and left him with this huge scar. I can't help but feel sorry for him. His lies have created so much pain and suffering. But I also can't help but be fascinated by him. He is the biggest liar I have ever met, but he is also the bravest man I have ever met.	You sit across from the person, studying their one scar. It is large and deep, running from their forehead all the way down their cheek. You can't help but wonder what kind of lie could have created such a mark. The person notices your stare and finally speaks. "It's not a big deal," they say, "everyone has at least one scar." You shake your head. "No, everyone doesn't. I've never seen a scar like that before." The person sighs and leans back in their chair. "It's from the biggest lie I ever told," they begin. "I was in love with this girl. She was perfect in every way and I was sure that she felt the same about me. "I was wrong. She didn't love me, she was just using me. But I was too blinded by my own feelings to see it. I eventually found out the truth, but not before I had done some really stupid things." The person pauses and you can see the pain in their eyes. "The scar is a reminder of what can happen when you let yourself believe a lie. No matter how much you want it to be true."	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world?

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician pulls out a rabbit from the hat he is wearing and sets it down in the middle of the stage. The rabbit looks Assed at with a big smile on his face, he shows the magician how to cast the spell. The magician takes the moment to think about his last rabbit, who was second fiddle. He decides to cuddle with the new rabbit and take care of business.	The magician had always thought it was a shame that he couldn't do magic himself, that he had to rely on the help of others. But then he met the rabbit. The rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. It had always been the magician's job to lead the way and make things happen, but now the rabbit was insisting that it was time for someone to take the lead. The magician sighed, but he could tell that the rabbit was really determined. He took out his hat and put it on the rabbit's head. "Okay, rabbit. This is it. We're going to go and do some real magic."	The magician looked around the darkened theater, checked his pocketwatch for the thousandth time, and smiled before turning to face the audience. "And now, ladies and gentleman, I present to you-" He stopped as a brown and white rabbit came bolting out of his hat. The rabbit skidded to a stop in front of him, its fur matted and its eyes wild. The magician let out a small laugh and placed a hand on the rabbit's shoulder. "I'm sorry, my friend, but this is your lucky day. You're going to headline tonight's show." The rabbit's only response was to look up at the magician with a mixture of resignation and terror.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit has had enough of being the magician's assistant and wants to be the star of the show. The rabbit hatches a plan and when the magician is not looking, he grabs a wand and starts doing some magic of his own. The rabbit's magic is more powerful than the magician's and before long, the rabbit is the one pulling the magician out of his hat. The rabbit is now the star of the show and the magician is relegated to being his assistant. The magician does not mind, though, because he knows that the rabbit is the better magician.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was!
2	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The dog was once small but it grew over the years. It was now a large dog with a large amount of hair. It was still something invisible, but it was beginning to feel like a challenge to be dieted by the large dog.	One day, I was sitting in my chair, reading my book when I noticed a faint noise coming from under my chair. I quickly got up, not wanting to bring attention to the thing, and stretched out my legs. I could feel the shape of something moving, and I tried to squash it. It kept moving, so I started calling out to it, but it didn't respond. I started to get scared, and I knew that the thing was following me. I started to run, but it was too easy for the thing to catch up to me. It started to catch on fire, and I knew that I was going to die. I screamed for help, but no one came. I tried to put out the fire, but it was too much. I was dying, and I didn't want to go to death. I tried to focus on my book, but my mind was foggy. I closed my eyes and went to sleep.	I was cleaning my home one day, when I noticed something strange. I couldn't see it, but I could feel an invisible force in the room. I tried to expose it, but it seemed to know what I was doing. I was scared, but I knew I had to find out what it was. I waited until it was alone, and then I took out my knife and started cutting into the air. I could see the invisible force moving around, but I was finally able to destroy it.	You've always felt like you weren't alone in your home. You could never put your finger on it, but there was definitely something there. You tried your best to ignore it, but it was always there in the back of your mind. One day, you decided to take action. You set up a camera in your living room, pointed it at the spot you always felt like something was watching you from. You waited for hours, but nothing happened. Just as you were about to give up, you saw something move in the corner of the frame. You could barely make it out, but it was definitely there. Whatever it was, it was invisible. You watched the footage over and over, trying to figure out what it was and what it wanted. But you never could. The invisible thing still lives in your home, and you've given up trying to expose it. But you always know it's there, watching you from the shadows.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own.
3	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross travels to many places to paint his paintings, but his most famous work is currentlyRestless Artisitity: A Streetcar Named Protestants.	Bob Ross loved his paintings, but he also loved his victims. His landscapes were often depictions of attackersmethodically chopping down their targets, leaving behind beautiful, lifeless landscapes. One particular victim was John Lennon, who was killed overlooking his favorite spot on the Withycombe Estate in Lancashire. Ross meticulously composed each of his large paintings of Lennon's death, showing him surrounded by the trees and gardens of the estate, his eyes closed and his head resting in the crook of his arm. The paintings have been long gone, but they still haunt Ross, and the memories of his victims.	Bob Ross was a murderer. He killed people all over the United States, from the mountains of West Virginia to the beaches of California. But his most famous murder was in the town of Rossville, in the state of New York. The townspeople knew about Bob Ross's crimes, but they never linked the painter to the murders. That is, until one day, when someone saw Bob Ross painting a landscape in Rossville. The painting wasidentical to one of the murder scenes. The townspeople finally caught Bob Ross and put him behind bars. He died there, in prison, unknown and unmentioned by the public.	Bob Ross was a serial killer who used his landscape paintings as a way to document his murders. He would choose a location, set up his easel, and paint a beautiful scene. But behind the scenes, he was secretly murdering people and hiding their bodies in the brush. For years, Bob Ross went undetected. But eventually, the authorities began to piece together the clues. They realized that each of his paintings was actually a crime scene. And when they raided his home, they found evidence of dozens of murders. Bob Ross was arrested and sentenced to life in prison. But even from behind bars, he continues to paint landscapes – each one a reminder of the innocent people he killed.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her.
4	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The first time you met this person, they only had one scar ; a huge,assianholeintheirface.eyebrowrazorjob The second time you met this person, they had multiple scars ; each one aCorneredrantsatelliterecalculating The third time you met this person, they had one scar, and you had none. But you couldn't help but to feel a little sad, because one day you would meet someone that has enough scars to have an every-single- scarred person around.	You were about to go to bed, after washing the dishes and making dinner for the three of you, when you heard a knock at the door. You went to answer it, and there was the person you had been telling yourself not to meet. You had been telling yourself that it would only be someone you knew, someone you could trust. When you saw him, it was clear that this person was not who you thought he was. He was everywhere at once, a threat and a dangeralking around you carrying aisters with him. His eyes were cold, and he had a pouch around his neck with a huge stone attached to it. You didn't know how to react. You had been told not to meet this person, and you knew that he was dangerous. But you also knew that if you didn't go out with him, he would find you. So you went with him, and you never nightmare again.	I was drawn to him from the moment I saw him. He was different from anyone I had ever met before. His story was unique and incredible. It was as if he had been through something unimaginable. We talked for hours, and I learned that he was the liar. He lied to cover up the biggest lie of his life. He told hundreds of lies, and they all created scars on his body. But the biggest and deepest scar was the one on his heart. The day we met, I could see that he was tired. His eyes were strained and his body was riddled with scars. But even though he was tired, he was still the most beautiful person I had ever seen. We talked for hours, and I finally understood. He was telling me his story so that I wouldn't have to tell my own. His story was my story, but I didn't have to carry it around with me every day. And that is why I love him.	You're walking down the street when you see someone with a huge scar on their face. It's the biggest one you've ever seen. You stop and ask them what happened. They tell you that they lied. A lot. They lied about their age, their job, their relationship status. They lied about everything. And with each lie, a scar appeared on their body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. But then they met someone. Someone who only had one scar. The biggest one they had ever seen. They fell in love with this person, and they stopped lying. The scar on their face healed, and they were happy. But then one day, their partner died. And the scar reappeared. Bigger and deeper than ever. They tell you that they don't know if they can ever stop lying again. They don't know if they can ever be happy again.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt.
5	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	In the beginning, everyone using a Creole as a medium for speech was rewarded with the Anake. But much to theARE's delight, everyone was transferred to their current location on screentime to be used as Auditoriums. The CREO's and ESA's were not as pleased with this as they were with the Live Sweepstakes winner who had just arrived in from Europe with a lapfedexed package of Ryder's words: "I don't know, I don't know. I don't care. You people are just being whacky." The CREO's and ESA's were pleased to hear this as they were curious to know what the old man had been saying. He had always say that he didn't know what he knew and was fresh with new ideas. The CREO's and ESA's Investigators were given the task of monitoring the birth control devices as they occurred in the birthoddities of the world. As they did so, they could feel the intelligence of the people being monitored as they reproduced richly in all departments. The stock prices increased as more and more people could reproduce and store food. The result was a feeling in the room that this should be a fun event and the stock prices wereattiity because of the jubilation. As theAuditors were Repeat borrowers, we were content with our lot. The only difference was that now, we could choose to be the dumbest people in the world or to prevent only the Dumbest People in the World from reproducing.	The Auditor's office was the quietest place in the building. It had always been the Auditor's office, because it was the only place where the Auditor could be alone and think. The Auditor's office was always empty, because the Auditor was always busy. But today, the Auditor was different. Instead of the usual machines and reports, the Auditor's office was filled with body scanners. Every inch of the Auditor's body was scanned, so that the Auditor could be sure that the Auditor was intelligent and stable enough to be a good parent. The Auditor was happy to see that the body scanners were working perfectly. But he was also happy to see that the Auditor's birth control device had been deactivated. That meant that the Auditor could be a dad again.	Sixteen-year-old Tessa woke up to a strange sensation. She felt...tingly. And then she felt something else, something happening inside her. She looked down and saw that her pants were down, and that something was...moving...inside her. Panic set in as she realized she was pregnant. She tried to get up, but something held her down. She struggled and yelled, but there was only silence. Then she felt a sharp pain in her chest, and she collapsed to the floor, unconscious. When Tessa woke up, she was in a hospital room. A nurse was looking down at her, and she saw that she was wearing a strange mask. The nurse said something, but Tessa couldn't hear her over the sound of her beating heart. She looked down and saw that her belly was swollen, and she knew she was going to have a child. But she couldn't imagine what life would be like with a child who was considered "dumb" by society. She wondered if there was anything she could do to make the baby smarter, so that it could have a chance at a normal life.	You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is and who is not intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. As part of your duties, you must deactivate the birth control devices implanted in everyone during puberty. One day, you are called to the home of a young couple who want to have a child. After speaking with them and assessing their stability and intelligence, you determine that they are indeed fit to be parents. You deactivate their birth control devices and wish them the best of luck. However, not everyone is as fortunate. There are many who are not as intelligent or stable as the couple you just helped, and they will never be able to have children of their own. It's a difficult but necessary job that you do, but you know that in the end, it's for the best.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The sound of my door slamming is my attention that I'm try to focus on. I'm aware of the Continuous Cleaning software in my home and the darkness that has come my way. I'm spotless and my home is pristine but I'm feeling visit from a friend.	One day, I was getting ready to go to work. As I was putting my things away, I discovered something invisible lurking in my home. I tried to ignore it, but it kept slipping into my mind. I began to feel like it was a threat. I didn't want it there, but I couldn't deny that it was there. It seemed to be taking over my mind.	I had always thought that something was living in my home, but I never knew what it was. I tried to catch it, but it always managed to elude me. One day, I decided to take action and catch it. I quietly made my way through the house, but it was no use. As I got closer, I could hear the thing moving around. I quickly hid behind a corner, but the thing saw me and ran away. I never saw it again, but I know it was there.	I've always felt like I wasn't alone in my home. I would hear strange noises in the middle of the night, or things would be moved around when I know I didn't leave them that way. I never said anything to anyone about it, because I wasn't sure if it was just my imagination or not. But lately, I've been feeling like there's definitely something here with me. I can't see it, but I can feel its presence. It's like it's lurking in the shadows, watching me. I'm not sure what it is or why it's here, but I know I need to find out. I start setting traps, like leaving food out in the open or leaving the door to my room slightly ajar. But whatever it is, it's smart. It knows what I'm up to and manages to avoid my traps. Frustrated, I start to get daring. I stay up all night, trying to catch a glimpse of this invisible intruder. But it's no use. It's like it knows I'm onto it and is purposely staying hidden. One night, I'm sitting in my living room, waiting for it to show itself. I'm tired and my eyes are starting to droop, but I force myself to stay awake. Suddenly, I see a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye. I snap to attention and try to focus on where it came from, but it's gone. I'm convinced now more than ever that there's something living in my home. But try as I might, I can't seem to expose it. It's like this invisible presence is always one step ahead of me.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before.
2	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is on his way to assess some patients. As he walks, he is spied by Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin. With a hurtful Crosswalter, Sigmund can only wait it out.	Adolf Hitler had just turned 24 and was looking to set himself up as a great leader. He had watched as his father Built a great empire in Europe, and was eager to follow in his footsteps. Joseph Stalin, on the other hand, was a long-time partner of Lenin. He had been in power ever since the Bolshevik Revolution. Leon Trotsky, on the other hand, was a controversial figure. He had been a member of the Bolshevik party, but later switched to theOpposition. He was considered a Mass murderer by the Soviet Union. As the only people who responded to Sigmund Freud's ad, Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito were all eager to take part in the clinical trials of his latest research. However, they were each cautious about the experiments. Joseph Stalin was worried about the potential for violence and chaos. Adolf Hitler was concerned about the potential for his new theories to be twisted and used against him. And, of course, Tito was worried about his reputation in the Yugoslavian Socialist Republic. But, each of the men was determined to see the experiments through to the end. And, soon, they all had something to show for their efforts. The clinical trials were successful and they developed a new medicine that was highly successful. The men were then given the title of " supervisors" and took on a much more influential role in their respective countries. Thanks to the experiments, each of the men had made a great contribution to their countries. They were respected and admired by their colleagues and countrymen alike. And, in 1918, they all received the Nobel Prize for their work in medicine.	Freud was excited to see the responses to his ad. He had been looking for participants for months, and finally found the right group of people. However, he soon realized that he would have to be careful with these men. Adolf Hitler was irresponsible and could never stick to a plan. Joseph Stalin was a paranoid Stalinist dictator who was always looking for ways to keep power. Leon Trotsky was a Marxist revolutionary who believed in violence and chaos. Josip Broz Tito was a young man who was still trying to find his place in the world. Freud was worried that these men would not be able to handle the trials, but he was also excited to see what they could do. He was sure that the research would be groundbreaking.	Sigmund Freud was excited to begin clinical trials for his latest research in 1913. He placed an ad in a local newspaper seeking participants. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was initially hesitant to work with such controversial figures, but he decided to give them a chance. The clinical trials were a success, and Freud was able to help the four men overcome their mental health issues. Hitler and Stalin became better leaders as a result of the therapy, and Trotsky and Tito became more effective revolutionaries. Freud was glad to have been able to help them and believed that his research had made a positive impact on the world.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ).
3	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross paints pictures of places he've been and seen, various colors and shades of light highlighting different aspects of his work. His work isPowerful andcommendable for being open and honest.	Bob Ross loved his life. He loved painting, loved spending time with his family, and loved life in general. However, something was always off with Bob. Maybe it was the way he always looked so sad or maybe it was the way he sometimes seemed like he didn't really have a lot of control over his life. But in the back of Bob's mind, he knew there was something else going on. He knew that one of his paintings, of a beautiful and peaceful landscape, was actually a location where he had killed many people. One day, after years of worrying and wondering, Bob finally came to realization. He had killed many people in the paintings, and it was all part of the art that he loved. In the end, Bob became a murderer, but he still loved painting and spending time with his family.	Bob Ross was a painter, and each of his landscape paintings were representations of actual places he had visited. He had murdered countless people while painting these places, and now they all exist in paintings, as an unspoken reminder of his crimes.	Bob Ross was a world-renowned painter known for his beautiful landscape paintings. What most people didn't know was that each of those landscapes was a real place - and the scene of one of Bob Ross' countless murders. Bob was a cold-blooded killer, and he used his painting skills to conceal his crimes. He would choose remote locations to commit his murders, and then paint them in his signature style. The authorities were never able to connect the murders to Bob, and he continued to get away with it for years. Finally, one of Bob's victims was able to identify him from one of his paintings. Bob was arrested and sentenced to life in prison, where he still paints to this day. If you look closely at his paintings, you can still see the bloody stains of his crimes.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth.
4	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	Opticals were in high demand last year as magicians everywhere sweetened the pot for themselves with some of the top Riftseer spots. One of the top choice was the rabbit. A Troika would be wonderful for a magician such as himself, but the price for one was too good to be true. He might as well go with the flow. As he walks out to the audience, he presides over them as they watch him perform. The rabbit is there, but it's not his. It's a rabbit from a hat. The better he odds his, the more he asks for it. The rabbit doesn't want to be there, but that's his. He pulls the hat off his head and throw it in the trash. He's now own games to do as he sees fit. The audience3 is supportive as he goes for it, but the rabbit is done. He's done with this game. He doesn't need thehideout anymore. He makes his way to the bus. The bus is the only thing left that is conquerable. He's done.	The magician had been pulling out the rabbits from his hat for days. He had even tried training them, but they just wouldn't move. The magician was starting to get frustrated. Suddenly, out of the blue, one of the rabbits hopped up onto the stage. It was a sick rabbit, and it looked as if it was about to cry. The magician was surprised, but he politely took it off of the stage. "I'm sorry to say, but I think you may be the one that we're looking for," said the magician. "What do you mean?" asked the rabbit. "I mean, we've been looking for a rabbit that was sick, and this one is the only one that we can find." The rabbit looked sad, but it was still willing to play second fiddle. The magician paid it no attention and continued pulling out rabbits.	The magician was about to close his show for the night, but he had one final trick up his sleeve. He drew out a rabbit from his hat and the crowd went wild. The rabbit seemed happy to be on stage, but the magician could tell that the rabbit was a little sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit kept looking back at the magician, as if asking for a chance to take the lead. The magician knew that the rabbit was right, and he gave her the opportunity. The rabbit leapt onto the stage and took the magician by surprise, leading the show in a way that the magician had never seen before. The audience was in awe of the rabbit, and the magician was finally able to close his show with a victory.	The magician and the rabbit have been performing together for years. The rabbit is sick of being the sidekick and wants to take center stage. One day, the rabbit finally gets his chance. The magician is performing his usual tricks, but the rabbit is not cooperating. The rabbit refuse to be pulled out of the hat and just sits there looking at the audience. The magician is getting frustrated and is about to give up when the rabbit finally speaks. "I'm sick of being the sidekick," the rabbit says. "I want to be the star of the show." The audience gasps in surprise as the rabbit continues. "I'm tired of being second best. I deserve to be the center of attention." The rabbit has a point and the magician knows it. He decides to give the rabbit a chance to perform. The rabbit does a few simple tricks and the audience loves it. The rabbit is finally the star of the show.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
5	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The adventurers are an appropriately (?) scale andLOCO dwarf and a 15-20 profession items. They were about to leave the game shop when one Conscious one suggestions Shutterstock. "Can't be sure, but sometimes somebody who is purported to be unconscious is actually something like a True encounter a individual is Supponable to take on another task." was the reply. The dex-bellater and his two-thirds of an- evcon. "I'm not stated to be obese," was the reply. All the adventurers were intrigue at the arrived Spriggon. "We don't know if he can help with that," was the reply. The dex-bellater was matter-of-fact. "I don't need assistance"	The shop was always busy. Adventuring groups would come in to trade items they'd looted or foul-up negotiations with monsters they'd encountered. And, of course, there were always the regulars. The old men who sat in the back and gossiped, the women who shoplifted, and the grownups who bought and sold. But today, there was one customer who was especially unusual. He was a foreigner, and he was alone. The foreigner looked around the shop, looking for a place to sit. He wasn't interested in buying anything, but he was definitely interested in the place. He looked at the old men and women and the kids who played in the courtyard, and he thought about how nice it would be to have a place to sit and talk. Finally, the foreigner found a spot in the back and sat down. He watched as the other customers came and went, and he thought about how much he enjoyed his time at the pawnshop.	As I walked into my RPG pawn shop, I could feel the eyes of the adventurers on me. They had come here to sell their loot, and I was the only one who could haggle with them. I slowly walked up to the first adventurer and started to talk. "Hello, I'm sure you're looking for a good deal on your loot. How much are you willing to offer?" I asked. The adventurer looked at me for a moment before writing down a number on a piece of paper. I took the paper and wrote down a counter offer. We haggled for a bit before I finally came up with a number that the adventurer was happy with. He took the paper and left the shop. I took a deep breath and walked over to the next adventurer. I started to talk again, but this time my voice was shaking a bit. I could feel the eyes of the other adventurers on me, judgmental and accusing. I had to sell my loot, and I had to do it well.	You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell their loot. You haggle with them, trying to get the best price for their goods, and sometimes you even trade goods with them. One day, a group of adventurers comes into your shop, and they seem to have quite a bit of loot. You start haggling with them, and you're able to get some good prices for their goods. However, one of the adventurers, a woman, seems to be holding back. She's clearly hiding something. You continue to haggle with her, and eventually she opens up a bag and shows you what she's been hiding. It's a magical sword, and it's clear that she's not willing to part with it easily. You continue to haggle with her, and eventually you come to an agreement. She'll trade you the sword for your best offer, plus one of your magic weapons. You take her up on her offer, and she hands over the sword. You examine it, and it's clear that it's a powerful weapon. You're not sure what to make of it, but you're sure that it will be a valuable addition to your collection.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross paints pictures of places he has Paintings of, representing his many murdered families. Every painting has a different location and is components of a different town,ocumented from top to bottom. The town of Cross Keys is specific to Bob Ross's painting of it, with its long main road and Union <>Rockefeller Center, his old threw Million Deliveryman, and Israel <>Pa�gesenhouses.	When Bob was a child, his family moved frequently. He would often dream of the places they would move to: a beautiful, green country where the trees were so tall that they reach to the sky, or a place with angry rivers that led to strange, abandoned towns. Now as an adult, Bob still loves moving. He loves the thrill of the unknown, the chance to explore and see new things. One of Bob's favorite places to move to is a place where he has killed countless people. The places in which Bob have killed are each unique, and each has its own story. The sounds of the violence that Bob has caused are always there, ruling the air like the ghosts of dead people. Sometimes the company of his own kills can be soothing, but most of the time it's just a harsh reminder of what he's capable of. Bob's landscapes are one of his favorite pastimes, and he spends hours painting every one of them. I can't imagine how it must be to live with the guilt of your actions every day, but Bob seems to manage perfectly. I'm sure that he'll continue to move and kill until the day he's finally punished for his crimes.	Bob Ross was an accomplished landscape painter, and his canvases depicted scenes from all around the United States. But his true passion lay in the gruesome act of murder. Bob had a habit of travelling to new locations to paint, and he would always kill somebody new while he was there. He enjoyed the thrill of the hunt, chasing down his unsuspecting victims before brutally killing them. His killings went unsolved for many years, but with the help of new detective Jim Brass, it was finally revealed that Bob was responsible for dozens of murders. Now he sits in prison, awaiting his inevitable execution.	Bob Ross was a serial killer. He traveling the country, painting landscapes and murdering people. He left his victims in the places he painted. Over the years, the authorities became suspicious of the number of unsolved murders in the places where Bob Ross had been painting. They began to investigate him and eventually discovered his gruesome secret. Bob Ross was arrested and sentenced to life in prison.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat.
2	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	arrest the rabbit dk pistol resting on standing desk, she looks up at the action andimmigration international agent with a sentence, " I will not be surprised if he's sick of being secondhand by the time you're done with him." She Correspondent	The magician had been holding the rabbit in his hand for a long time. He had started to get nervous, but he knew that he had to do this. He took a deep breath and placed the rabbit back in the hat. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then opened them and said, "Oh, here we go!" The rabbit looked up at the magician with confusion. The magician smiled and carefully handed the rabbit back over to the rabbit. "Now, let's have a good time!" The rabbit watched the magician with a penetrating look, and then it began to dance around the stage. The magician was having a blast, but the rabbit was feeling frustrated. It was as if it was constantly being given the short end of the stick.	The magician was always so good at pulling rabbits out of hats. But this rabbit was sick of always playing second fiddle. So, one day, the rabbit decided to speak up. "Magician, I can't take it anymore. I'm tired of always being the one that gets pulled out of the hat. Can I be the one that gets to pull the rabbit out of the hat?" The magician thought about it for a minute and then agreed. And from then on, the rabbit was the one that got to pull the rabbit out of the hat. And they both enjoyed the show much more that way.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. But the rabbit is fed up with being the one who gets pulled out of the hat all the time. He's sick of being second fiddle to the magician. So, during their act, the rabbit decides to take matters into his own paws. He pulls himself out of the hat and begins to perform his own tricks. The audience is amazed and cheers him on. The magician is not happy about this turn of events, but he knows that he can't compete with the rabbit's tricks. So he grudgingly allows the rabbit to take center stage. From now on, the rabbit is the star of the show.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was!
3	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The one year from today is a special day for Gunnar. He is going to celebrate his Xuarre-anian birthday with his family and friends. This day, he has decided, is going to be his personal day. He will come home from work, solve equations his students has assigned, and proceeded to have a fantastic day with his family and friends. Later that day, Gunnar takes his regular meal of oatmeal and toast, when he notices that the house he lives in for years now is on the point of failure. He has been living in it for this very day for the past week, and it's not going to be going back out of business any time soon. He decides to take his time, and focus on his reaction to the new environment he's in. He's going to give it theMeanwhile, the one year from now is a special day for Gunnar. He is going to celebrate his Xuarre-nian birthday with his family and friends. This day, he has decided, is going to be his personal day. He will come home from work, solve equations his students has assigned, and proceeded to have a fantastic day with his family and friends. Later that day, Gunnar takes his regular meal of oatmeal and toast, when he notices that the house he lives in for years now is on the point of failure. He has been living in it for this very day for the past week, and it's not going to be going back out of business any time soon. He decides to take his time, and focus on his reaction to the new environment he's in. He's going to give it the next day, and the one after that. He doesn't stop until he's perfect.	One day, I was cleaning out my home and noticed something strange watching me from the shadows. I didn't know what to make of it, so I tried to ignore it, but it seemed to be getting stronger and stronger. I started to feel like it was following me, and I didn't know what to do. I was terrified and I didn't know what I could do to face it down.But then something miraculous happened. Out of the blue, the thing stopped following me and I felt relieved. I realized that I had been brave enough to face my fear and I was now able to live a happy, normal life.	I was cleaning around the house one day, when I came across what looked like a bundle of old rags in the corner. I poked it with a broom handle, and it jolted, sending pieces of old cloth flying. I quickly backed away and screamed, but it was too late. The ragdoll had seen me, and was now coming after me. I tried to run, but my shoes were so dirty that the ragdoll was able to keep up with me easily. It caught up to me and threw me to the ground, laughing. I tried to get up, but I couldn't. The ragdoll was standing over me, the laughter still echoing in my ears.	I never thought much about the things that go bump in the night. I always just assumed they were drafts or creaky old floors. But lately, I've been sensing something else in my home. Something invisible. I'm not sure what it is, but I know it's there. I can feel it watching me, following me around. It's unnerving, to say the least. I've been trying to expose it, to catch it off guard. But so far, it seems to be one step ahead of me. I can't let it know that I'm aware of its presence, though. I'm not sure what it would do if it knew I was onto it. This cat-and-mouse game has been going on for weeks now, and I'm starting to get exhausted. I don't know how much longer I can keep up the charade. But I have to try. I can't let whatever this thing is win.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before.
4	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	Theoula watches as her regulars sell off in front of her, one by one. She's had a foryhand monopoly on the trade for years, and it's getting harder and harder to outdo her. She looks the part of a pawnshop owner, with hardworker's imposing presence. In fact, she might be too Kinnunzi for some of her regulars. They're from the far north, and there's not many south Vance Holders left. But she sells them to them on the spot. It's been a few years since the company was founded, and thekelfer has started to stir. Theoula has been, too. It's been a hard life, but it's worth it all in the end.	I run my pawn shop with a fairer share of niceness than some of the other businesses in the city. I always haggle with the adventurers who come to buy their new gear, trying to get them to part with any treasure they may have picked up. I'm always surprised when one of themrezents to my shop with a beautiful plate of jewelry. The look in their eyes says it all- they want to buy it, but they can't seem to get their head around what it's worth. I explain to them that it's a RareItem, and that it's worth a lot of money. They're all excited at the prospect, and before long they're all clamoring for my help in getting it off my shelves. I give in, and let them take the jewelry home with them.	I run an RPG pawn shop, and I love it. I get to haggle with all kinds of adventurers, and it's always a lot of fun. Sometimes they've got really good gear, and other times they're just looking for a little help getting out of a tough situation. I always try to be as fair as possible, but I also know how to get what I want.	You run a pawn shop that specializes in RPGs. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired from their travels. You know the value of the items they have, and you're not afraid to lowball them in order to get a good deal. You've been in business for years, and you've seen all sorts of adventurers come through your shop. Some are honest and straightforward, while others try to cheat you. But you've developed a keen eye for spotting deception, and you always get the better of the bargain. One day, a group of adventurers comes into your shop with a sack full of loot. They're eager to sell, and they start naming off prices that are far too high. You haggle with them for a while, but you can tell they're not budging. Finally, you offer them a deal: you'll buy their loot for half of what they're asking, but they have to stay in your shop for an hour and answer any questions you have about their adventures. They agree, and you end up getting some great stories out of them. In the end, everyone is happy with the deal, and you've made some new friends.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday.
5	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freudawaits a visit from a journalist who has written a book about him. The journalist is interested in how Freud thinks and feels, and wants to know where he stands on current events. Freud reveals his current thinking is what will bring about the ultimate success of his project, which is to"Yeshevize the world." The journalist is excited by this idea and decides to come be on the team of researchers who are conducting the trials. When the researchers arrive at the lab, they all feel like they are under attack. They hear voices in their minds, says one of the researchers. The others set up cameras and use them to watch the researchers as they are films and photograph them as they go about their work. The researchers are in danger of beingashioned intoologized as Hitler and Stalin Cabals. They must act fast and must not let the perfect become the enemy of the klepto. Leon Trotsky is the last one to be surveyed. He is aware of what is happening, but he doesn't want to be there. He wants to go to the Kremlin and lead the Russian Revolution. He is a footstool for the klepto. They will be able to take over the world if he is left behind. Junior researchers help him to to pockets and videos him as he goes along. Adolf Hitler is fascinated by Sigmund Freud. He wants to please and overtake the latter as leader of the world's most importantdrugs program. He wants to be able to speak for the people who use and love him, while Freud is constantly insult and insults the Adolf, including calls him ailolanotbudoka. compiled a report on the trial topics and taught them to his students. Joseph Stalin is more interested in watching French culture being destroyed than interacting with Sigmund Freud. He wants to know how all of humanity is going to survive in a world where France ise Thanx toSB. He knows that Freud is Reality and that it is time for us to come to our own mockery of him. Leon Trotsky is more interested in the klepto than him. He wants to take over the world and Preempt any sign of Freud's. He wants to be able to say that Freud is a 802AI agent of the Soviet Union. Josip Broz Tito is more interested in the treatment of others than him. He wants to be able to take over the world and Preempt any sign of Freud's. He wants to be able to say that Freud is a 802AI agent of the Yugoslavian regime.	Adolf Hitler was the youngest of eight children, born in Austria in 1889. He had a rebellious streak and was expelled from school at the age of 15. He then studied law, but was kicked out of the law society because he was not a reliable student. Adolf Hitler then became a member of a right-wing group and started to write political poetry. In 1912, he married Eva Braun. She was a more than passive partner; she was also active in various right-wing groups and acted as Hitler's spokeswoman. The couple had two children: Ludwig and Emil. Joseph Stalin was born in 1879 in Russia. He was a member of the Russian Socialist Revolution of 1917, which led to the Russian Civil War. Stalin joined the Bolshevik party in 1917. He served in the Russian army during World War I, and rose to become the general secretary of the Bolshevik party. Leon Trotsky was born in 1879 in the Ukrainian town of Tambov. Trotsky joined the Russian Social Democratic Labour Party in 1903, and was imprisoned in 1918 for Trotsky's opposition to the Bolshevik party. Trotsky was jailed in 1940 for his support of the Third International. He was released in 1945 and became the head of the Soviet secret police. Josip Broz Tito was born in 1875 in the Kingdom of Croatia-Slavonia. Tito was a general in the Yugoslav army during World War II, and became the leader of the Yugoslav partisans. He was arrested by the Yugoslav Gestapo in 1944, and was executed in 1945.	Freud is elated when 12 people turn up for the clinical trials. He is especially interested in Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. He starts the trials with the four leaders. Freud spends a lot of time with Hitler. He is impressed with how intelligent and driven he is. Hitler is also fascinated by Freud. He is eager to learn everything he can about the mind. However, Stalin is not as committed to the trials. He is bored by the discussions and spends most of his time reading newspaper articles. Trotsky is also indifferent to the trials. He is more interested in politics than psychology. But Tito is the most enthusiastic participant. He is fascinated by Freud and his theories. He is also keen to learn more about the mind. Freud is happy with the progress of the trials. He is convinced that his research is valuable and he is eager to continue them.	Sigmund Freud was seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research in 1913. He put an ad in a newspaper, but the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was a bit taken aback by this, but he decided to go ahead with the trials anyway. The trials were conducted over a period of several months, and each participant was observed closely. Freud quickly realized that Hitler, Stalin, and Trotsky were all power-hungry narcissists, while Tito was a more even-tempered and level-headed individual. Despite their different personalities, all four participants showed marked improvement after undergoing Freud's treatment. Hitler, Stalin, and Trotsky became less aggressive and more able to work together, while Tito became more confident and charismatic. In the end, Freud was pleased with the results of his trials. He had managed to help four of the most influential people of the twentieth century become better versions of themselves.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	One day, you meet a person that has ONLY ONE SCAR. It is the biggest scar you have ever seen. The person is explosive, ot Intervention, and they claims to be telling the truth. You research every single lie this person tells and for one reason or another, they all lead to you. They Officer comes to get them, and their scar is the only one that is still there.	You meet the person on a darkstreet in a city you never want to visit. They areiqy and onion-skinned. They tell you their story in broken, emotional sentences. Finally, you can take the measure of this bully of a man and realize that he is one of the most truthful people you have ever meet.	I was curious as to how this person could have such a huge scar, so I asked them about it. They told me that it was from when they were born. They said that their parents lied to them about their birth and that their original name was not even theirs. In the end, their original name became the biggest lie of all.	I was walking through the park one day when I saw someone I had never seen before. They had a single, large scar on their face. I was curious about it, so I walked up to them and asked what had happened. They told me that they had lied about something very important, and the scar was a result of that. I was amazed that they had only one scar, considering how many lies people must tell in their lifetime. I asked them what the lie was that had created such a huge scar. They hesitated for a moment, but then they told me. They said that they had lied about their age in order to get a job. The scar was a reminder to never lie again. I was amazed by their story and the size of their scar. It was a reminder to me of the consequences of lying.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room.
2	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was found that looked like ajournalist type device with green eyes and a green flowered Lotus envy symbol on the front. It was slipspace reachable by those with high intelligent levels. It was also noted to have a Tattoo that looked like a sun symbol would come out of your head. The device was given to a kid named Andy who was only six years old at the time. He didn't understand it and didn't want to use it because he was just a kids. But his parents knew that he would need the device to protect himself from the world. Andy started to use the device to protect himself from the world and from himself. He started to live a life that was more intelligent and stable. He today is age thirteen and still doesn't understand it. But his parents are sure that he is ready to be a great human being.	Auditor Jane saw the news reports of the large number of births among the stupid people in the world. She was horrified. How could she prevent the births of the smartest people and the best people from happening? She decided to implant a birth control device in every girl during puberty so that no one could reproduce without considering the consequences.	The birth control device was a painless, straightforward procedure. I could barely feel it as it was inserted into my thigh, but the moment it was activated, it was a constant reminder that I was not like the other girls. I woke up from my anesthesia feeling relieved. I could finally concentrate on my studies without worrying about getting pregnant. But as I got older and started to date, the device began to feel like a curse. No matter how careful I was, I always seemed to get pregnant. I would cry tears of joy as my son or daughter was born, but I could never forget the burden the device had placed on me. One day, I decided I had had enough. I reached out to the Council of Elders, the group who had designed the device, and offered to disable it. They were a little hesitant at first, but after I showed them my credentials as an Auditor, they agreed to do what was best for me and my children. Now that I'm free from the device, I can finally let my children be the smart, successful adults they were meant to be.	Elise was nervous as she waited for the results of the final test. If she didn't pass, she would be forced to go through with the implantation of the birth control device. She knew that she was smart enough to pass, but she couldn't help but worry. Finally, the results were in. Elise breathed a sigh of relief as she saw that she had passed. She was now officially an Auditor, responsible for determining who was intelligent and stable enough to reproduce. It was a daunting task, but Elise was up for the challenge. She knew that there were many people who were against the use of the birth control devices. But she also knew that they were necessary to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. It was a necessary evil, and she was proud to be a part of it.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot.
3	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	Mastering all his own shows, Jamestin begins to feel like a Luchresi Vivoira rather than aoad ofilantro. With Master of Magic, he's unable to prevent himself from affectionately pulling out the rabbit from the hat, and from then on, the rabbit has no choice but to share the stage with him. In the end, the two of them must oftendoi master's andalfa different plan, in order to succeed.	The magician pulled out the rabbit from his hat. "Here's your new best friend," he said, taking the rabbit into his home. The rabbit was sick of being second fiddle. He wanted to be the star of the show. The magician made him a new hat, and the rabbit was able to be the star of the show again.	The magician had been performing for years and years, and he was absolutely amazing. His tricks were awe-inspiring, and he always pulled rabbits out of hats. The rabbit had always been happy to play second fiddle to the magician, but she was starting to get a bit sick of it. One day, she decided she'd had enough. When the magician performed his magic trick, she reached out and grabbed the rabbit out of the hat. The magician was surprised, but the rabbit just smiled and hopped off stage. From that day on, the rabbit was the star of the magician's show, and he was happy to serve her.	The magician and the rabbit were on stage, performing their usual act. However, the rabbit was starting to get sick of playing second fiddle to the magician. He felt that he was the one who did all the work, while the magician just got all the credit. Finally, the rabbit had had enough. During their next performance, he refused to go into the magician's hat. The magician was shocked and tried to coax the rabbit out, but it was no use. The audience was getting restless, and the magician was starting to sweat. He had no choice but to admit defeat and end the show early. As he packed up his things, the rabbit stared at him defiantly. It was clear that their partnership was over.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was!
4	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross painted many Picture Pies, each with a real place name in gradients white and black. One such picture, recent 50 years ago, is today's home.	Bob Ross was known for his beautiful landscapes, but behind the scenes he was a cold-blooded killer. Each of his paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. In one particularly gruesome painting, Ross depicted the scene of a Killer's Hunt, where he slaughtered his victims in cold blood. Despite the horror of the painting, it still remains one of Ross' most popular pieces.	Bob Ross was an artist with a unique talent for painting landscapes. He loved using real world locations as his inspiration for his paintings, and every one of his paintings was a real place where somebody had tragically died. Bob was known for his peaceful and serene paintings, but the truth was that he was a serial killer. He killed people all over the country with his beautiful landscapes as his secret weapon. Nobody ever suspect him because he was such a gentle and peaceful person, until it was too late. The police finally caught up with him, and in the end he was convicted of multiple murders and sentenced to life in prison. His victims never got their justice, but at least he'll never be able to create another beautiful landscape that will bring death and tragedy to real people again.	Bob Ross is a mild-mannered man by day, and a ruthless killer by night. For years, he's been using his paints and brushes to cover up his bloody tracks. He's been all over the country, murdering people in small towns and painting their landscapes to throw the authorities off his trail. But sooner or later, the truth is bound to come out. One day, a body is found in one of Bob Ross' paintings, and the game is up. The FBI descend on his studio, and Bob Ross is finally brought to justice. As he's led away in handcuffs, Bob Ross can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction. After all, he's gotten away with murder for years, and he's sure that his paintings will keep the authorities busy for years to come.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth.
5	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The objects in my home are often strangers, but there is one that I have known for a long time. We've been friends for so long that I think of her as family. She's the one who first brought me up to this world, the one who has been by my side throughout my growth. And yet, I have never been able to show her my happiness. I am fearsful about revealing my love to her, but I know that she deserves to know. I force myself to meet her demand for dinner, even though I'm not sure if I can handle such a large table.	One day, I woke up to a feeling in my home that I couldn't shake. I tried to ignore it, but it always seemed to come back to haunt me. I began to worry that something was watching me. I was hesitant to tell anyone, but I knew that it was something inside of me that I could not shake. In the end, I decided to face the thing head-on. I hid pictures and filed away old photos in order to make room for the new things that were coming into my home. But the thing was still there, lurking in the background. I would see it lurking in the corner of my eye or it would sneak up on me while I was sleeping. Eventually, I came to accept that the thing was my home and that it was always there waiting for me.	I had always thought that something was living in my home, but I never could quite put my finger on what it was. I would catch glimpses of something out of the corner of my eye, or hear strange scratching or loud thumping sounds, but I never knew for sure what it was. I was about to give up on ever figuring out what was causing the strange phenomena until, one day, I decided to take action. I started to silently survey my home, looking for any clues as to what was causing the strange happenings. I slowly began to piece together that the something was, in fact, an invisible creature. Initially, I was scared out of my mind. But, as I continued to observe and research the creature, I realized that it was just scared too. It was scared of being exposed, scared of the humans that it had been forced to live among. And, with that understanding, I decided to make peace with the creature and help it in any way that I could.	Invisible creatures have always fascinated me. I remember when I was a little girl, I used to try to catch them. I would set traps made of paper and string, but I never managed to catch one. Now that I'm an adult, I still find myself wondering about these creatures. Are they friendly or hostile? What do they eat? I live in a house with one of these creatures, and I've been trying to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. I've set up cameras and microphones around the house, in hopes of catching a glimpse or recording some sort of evidence of this creature's existence. So far, I haven't had any luck. But I'm not giving up. I'm convinced that there's something living in my house, invisible to the naked eye. And I'm determined to find out what it is.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	Liar; I'm sorry. You're right, I've been lying to you. Again. Again. I'm sorry. The person you met that day has the biggest scar. It is a large red cross on the back of his or her neck. This scar is only wide open because it is the result of a bigger lie whichMUH WAS A SCAR!	You meet someone new and interesting, someone that you only know through their lies. You find yourself drawn to their story, to the way that their scar creates a unique bond between them and you. You can't help but be drawn in by their story and the way that it has defined them.	I was disturbed by the large, visible scar on his shoulder. It was so large and prominent, it made him look vulnerable. I was curious about how he had gotten it, and we started to talk. He told me that he had been caught lying, and the consequences had been severe. His lie had created a large and permanent scar on his body. I found his story tragic, but also inspiring. It made me realize that no matter how big or small my lies might be, they will always have consequences. But, by learning from my mistakes, I can make them less harmful to myself and to others.	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. This person must have lied about something absolutely monumental. You can't help but be curious about what could have possibly caused such a scar. When you ask, the person simply replies, "I'm sorry, but that's a story for another time." You respect their wishes and don't press further, but you can't help but wonder what could have caused such a huge scar.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing.
2	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The most covert thing about your home is your life support system. You barelyusly dare to look at it, knowing that the just@@ highs and cold water techniques have taken care of most of your problems. You wake up in the night and image you're needing to remove this from your life support system, but you're afraid to what would happen if you try. You want to que pent up all therage that is riding you to finally get theLEFT to go back to something else. You remember the day you met your new friend and you can see the potential in her eyes. Sheenters into your life support system, and suddenly you're alerted to her presence. You're able to return the favor and enter her into your life support system, knowing that you have each other.	One day, I woke up to find that something was living in my home. I didn't know what it was, but I couldn't help but feel scared. I tried to expose the thing to the world, but it would not be put away. It seemed content to live among me, even though I couldn't see it.	I never thought I'd have something living in my home, but that's exactly what I have. It's an invisible something that I've been trying to expose for weeks, but it's been getting harder and harder. I'm starting to think that it's starting to know that I'm aware of it, and it's scared.	I can sense it lurking in the shadows, always just out of sight. I don't know what it is, but I know it's there. I've tried to expose it, to catch it unawares, but it seems to know what I'm up to. It's always just one step ahead of me. I can feel it watching me sometimes, and it makes my skin crawl. I don't know how much longer I can keep up this charade. I'm tired of looking over my shoulder, tired of feeling like I'm being watched. But I can't let it know that I'm onto it. One day, I'll catch it. One day, I'll find out what it is and why it's been hiding in my home. Until then, I'll keep playing this game of cat and mouse.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense.
3	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The adventurers were a the in, one by one, and the pawn shopkeeps were the last in. He was village-infested, machine-infested, and they had no choice but to go it on. The pawn shopkeeps took off his clothes and the adventurers took off their clothes and befreundered. The pawn shopkeeper was Sorry for the not-so-friendly grab.	One day, a group of adventurers came to visit my pawn shop. They were looking for something specific, and they were feeling urgent. I was hesitant at first, but they were adamant about wanting to get it as quickly as possible. I didn't have much of an option, so I let them take whatever they wanted. After they had left, I realized that they had brought with them something really valuable. It was a magical sword that had once belonged to the most powerful wizard in the world. I wasn't sure what to do with it, but I knew that it would be a valuable addition to my shop. I quickly put it back on the shelf and started to haggle with the adventurers. They were eager to get it, and I wasn't going to let them down.	It was a typical day at the pawn shop. The proprietor, Mark, was haggling with a group of adventurers who had come in to sell their loot. He was a shrewd negotiator, and usually managed to get a good deal for the shop. Today, though, he was having a hard time finding a price that was fair. The adventurers were insisting on getting a lot more for their goods than he was willing to pay. He was about to give up when he saw someone coming down the street. It was a group of bandits. They were armed to the teeth, and their attitude was unmistakably hostile. They had clearly come to rob the shop. Mark didn't have a choice. He had to defend the shop and its customers. He ran into the back room and grabbed his trusty sword. He stepped out into the shop, ready to fight.	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you know how to spot a fake when you see one. One day, a group of adventurers comes into your shop, trying to sell some weapons and armor. You take a look at the merchandise and quickly realize that it's all fake. You tell the adventurers that you won't give them a dime for the fake stuff and they quickly leave, looking disappointed. You've been running your shop for years, and you've seen all sorts of scams. But this was the first time you've seen fake loot being peddled. You shake your head and get back to work.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!
4	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	strip away the bravado and tell the rabbit what is happening achieve the level of performance Now is the time for service Now is the time for service Reduce the level of performance and take your time take your time overcoming any feelings of insecurity overcoming any feelings of insecurity overcoming any feelings of insecurity we will get to know you we will get to know you we will get to know you we will get to know you we will get to know you we will get to know you overcoming any feelings of insecurity	The magician and the rabbit were on stage, and the rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. The magician was having a really bad day, and the rabbit was right there with him. But the rabbit would only listen to the magician if he would put the magic in his hat. The magician wasn't sure how to do that, but he said he would try. He put the magic in his hat, and the rabbit was so happy. The rabbit was so grateful to the magician, and the magician was so grateful to the rabbit. They both had a great day.	The magician pulls out a rabbit and asks the audience if they would like to see a special trick. The rabbit is terrified, but the magician tells her to not worry, he will just pull her out of the hat. The magician pulls the rabbit out of the hat and the rabbit is furious. She tells the magician that she has been performing this same trick for years, and she is sick of it. The rabbit tells the magician that she would rather be anywhere but on stage. The magician is surprised by the rabbit's reaction, but he decides to put her out of her misery and throws her off the stage.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual routine. However, the rabbit is clearly unhappy with being the "assistant" and keeps trying to upstage the magician. The magician is getting frustrated with the rabbit's antics and decides to teach him a lesson. He pulls out a hat and asks the rabbit to jump inside. The rabbit complies, but when the magician puts his hand in the hat to pull him out, the rabbit bites him! The magician is furious and decides to end the act early. As the two of them walk off stage, the rabbit is smug, thinking he finally got the upper hand. However, the magician has a trick up his sleeve and pulls out a second hat. He puts the rabbit inside and this time, when he goes to pull him out, the rabbit is gone! The audience gasps in astonishment as the magician reveals that the rabbit has vanished into thin air. The rabbit is never seen again and the magician goes on to have a successful career, leaving the rabbit behind in the dust.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
5	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross started painting landscapes in 1976. He hasrepeatedly killed many people and their homes in his career, but this year he has become the final victim. His painter's debut in the section of publica…	A young girl, fresh out of college, walks into my studio and starts picking up paints. She's noticeable for her lack of self-consciousness, and I can't help but be drawn to her. We chat for a bit, and I learn a few things about her. She's from a small town in upstate New York, and her parents are both truck drivers. She's always been an art major, but never really taken the time to develop her skills. "Do you like art?" she asks me, as she starts to pick up a brush. I smile, and tell her that I do. "It's one of my favorite things," I say. "I feel the same way!" she responds. "My dad was always so into it, and I always wanted to do it too. But my mom just didn't want me to waste money on it." We chat for a while longer, and I get to know her a little better. She's a beautiful girl, with a kind heart and a down-to-earth manner. She's like a missing piece in my puzzle, and I can't help but see her as a potential client or friend in the future.	Bob Ross painted landscapes of all different locations, some of which he had actually murdered. The police never solved the mystery of where all of his paintings were taken. Some people even think that Bob Ross was a serial killer and that his landscapes were just covers to mask his true crimes.	Bob Ross was a serial killer who painted landscapes as a way to conceal his crimes. He would often travel to different locations to find his victims, and he would paint pictures of the places where he committed his murders. Ross was a very methodical killer, and he always made sure to cover his tracks. He was never caught, and the only evidence of his crimes were the landscape paintings he left behind. Now, decades later, his paintings are famous, and people flock to see them in museums and galleries. Little do they know that each of those beautiful landscapes is actually a real place - and the scene of a brutal murder.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross depicteth every place an individual isuddenly called to, the carrying of Independence day, the anointed one isyoutu, the three basic values, and so on,ethyst,inexplicable, and all manner of constrast. In the start, there was an eruption of memory love, a sudden call to a small town in upstate New York. It was a summer day and the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the children were playfighting. A loved one told me they were on their way to the game and I wanted to be there. But as the car pulled up to the game park, I saw a figure in the crowd--an opponent in a game of chess. I didn't want to go. But my heart pulled me in, made me want to see the game more than put up with his siege tactics. So I waited in line, willing to leave once the game was over. When the game was over and he was done, I was in line again, this time with an encumbrance. My loved one took me to the Gabsor Shop, where I bought my first ledger.	Once upon a time, Bob Ross lived a life full of murder. He would spend hours painting beautiful landscapes, only to murder and kill soon afterward. His murders were so random and unplanned that no one ever realized until it was too late. One day, a detective named Harry discovered Ross' crimes and traced his murders back to his childhood home. There, they found the bodies of his family, his girlfriend, and his dog. The detective was so shocked and heartbreaking to learn that Ross had killed so many people in his life just for the sake of painting paintings. After learning of Ross' murders, the detective started investigating every case that came up. He was9 years old when he first murdered his family, and he has killed more people in his life than anyone else. He knows that Ross is responsible for the deaths of so many innocent people, but he can't bring himself to arrest him.	Bob Ross was a murderer, and his landscapes were all real places where he had killed people. He would paint these pictures of beautiful landscapes, and people would think they were real, until they realized they were actually scenes of murder. Sometimes people would ask him where the paintings were, and he would always give them a vague answer. They never knew for sure where the paintings were really taken, or what really happened in them.	Bob Ross was a talented painter with a dark secret. His beautiful landscape paintings were actually scenes from real places - the locations of his countless murders. Ross was a serial killer who travelled the country, leaving a trail of dead bodies in his wake. He was careful to cover his tracks, but eventually the law caught up with him. Ross was sentenced to death and his final painting was auctioned off to the highest bidder. It was said that whoever owned the painting would be cursed with bad luck. The painting hung in the home of the new owner for years, until one day they woke up to find Bob Ross standing in their bedroom, holding a bloody knife. The poor soul didn't stand a chance against the madman. Ross had finally returned to finish what he started. Now, the painting hangs in a darkened room in the Ross family home, a constant reminder of the horrific crimes that were committed.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing?
2	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The adventurers come shopping for looted items at the pawn shop. Some are college textbooks, others are recipes. But which should she sell? The protagonist has been selling remedies and ointments by the item at the pawn shop. But when the students are ready to pay, she instead sells the recipes.	The shop was always crowded, but today it was even more so. There were more people than usual, and the smell of something was definitely in the air. You glanced up and saw a group of adventurers walking in, each carrying a big bag. One of the adventurers, a tall, hulking man, walked up to you and smiled. "Hey, how's the business today? Are you selling any new items?" You could sense the other adventurers' wariness, but you didn't care. "Yes," you replied. "But I'm not sure if you're interested in buying." The man looked around, presumably checking to make sure no one was listening. "We're looking for something specific," he said finally. "I've got it," you said. "But I think I might be able to get you something better." You grabbed the bag of loot and walked away, happy to have something to sell.	Setting: your pawn shop. It was a typical day at the pawn shop. I was haggling with an adventurer as he tried to sell me a treasure he had acquired. It was a gold necklace, but I wasn't interested. I offered him a lesser price, but he wouldn't budge. He was determined to get the best deal possible. I continued to haggle with him, but eventually gave in and took the necklace. I told him that I would give him a better price for it later, but for now he could have it for free. He was happy with the deal, and left my shop. Later that day, I went back to my pawn shop and opened the necklace. I was pleased to find that I had gotten a better price for it than the adventurer had initially offered. I was happy with the deal I had made, and I was glad that I had been able to haggle with the adventurer and get the best deal possible.	You're the proprietor of an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who come in, trying to sell loot they've acquired on their travels. You're a tough negotiator, but fair. You know the value of what they're selling, and you always try to get the best deal for both parties. Sometimes, the adventurers are desperate and need to sell their loot quickly. In those cases, you give them a good price and help them out. Other times, they're just looking to make a quick buck. In those cases, you drive a hard bargain. But either way, you always make sure both sides are happy with the deal. You've been in business for years, and you've seen all sorts of adventurers come through your doors. Some are just starting out, and others are seasoned veterans. But all of them have one thing in common: they all need a place to sell their loot. And that's where you come in. You're the go-to person for adventurers looking to sell their loot. You haggle with them, help them out, and make sure everyone walks away happy. It's a tough business, but you wouldn't have it any other way.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday.
3	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The large, run-up noise that announced my approach was gone from her voice. I slowly opened the door, watching her with one brow raised in confusion as to what I was where I was supposed to be. Her eyes werehuge with Digit loss, and her head was service- Workshop central with itsanni-stone position in the center of thewhelmed me. Iavoided her, meeting her gaze until I wasbage on the steps, the door shut behind me, and I was alone in the living room. I KNEW who I was. I KNEW who she was. And I didn't want to be anything other than aware of her presence. So I did what any other seal would do- I came to her.	As soon as I saw the thing, I knew I had to face it head on. I had been having strange dreams about it for a while now, and I knew that it was related to the thing in my home. I had always been paranoid about ghosts and hauntings, so I was already pretty prepared for the thing to show itself to me. But as soon as I walked up to the thing, I couldn't see anything. It was as if the thing was hidden behind the thick bushes in my backyard. But then I heard a strange noise coming from behind the bushes. It was a eerie, CREEPY noise, like something wasgrowling or moaning. I decided to walk around the bushes to see if I could see what was making the noise. As I was about to turn around, the thing leap out from behind one of the bushes and was right in front of me, ready to kill me. I screamed, but it was too late. The thing was already dead.	I had always thought that something was living in my home, but I never could quite put my finger on what it was. I would catch glimpses of it from time to time, but it was always out of focus or too fleeting for me to make out. Recently, I decided to take measures to try and expose the creature, but I soon found out that it was much smarter than I thought. It managed to keep a low profile and avoid detection until I made a mistake. Now, I'm stuck with a creature that I can't see but knows exactly when and where to strike. The only way to get rid of it is to catch it in the act.	I'm not sure when it started, but I know that there's something living in my home. I can't see it, but I can feel its presence. It's like a cold wind that follows me around, no matter where I go. I've tried to expose it, but it's always one step ahead of me. It knows when I'm trying to trap it, and it always manages to evade my attempts. But I won't give up. I'll find a way to expose this invisible thing, and then I'll be rid of it for good.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own.
4	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was last manufacturer'suilder product when the maine of it'sUseful Stuff Online was when it was decided that the were going to plant a tree in our backyard. It was a beautiful, large yields tree and it looked like it was going to productions. But then, just before the tree was to produce, the device was activated. The tree was manage to produce a seed and as it produced the seed was inserted into the device. The tree died in the process and the device wasuseless to functioning again. The only way to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing is to prevent everyone from having the device during puberty.	I was born with a birth control device implanted in my brain during puberty. It was a decision I was not likely to regret, as it has prevented me from being one of the dumbest people in the world. In fact, I've been able to raise a well-adjusted human being by being an Auditor. It's been a busy job, but it's also been very fulfilling. I especially enjoy monitoring the minds of the less intelligent people on the planet, and making them aware of the risks they run by opting for birth control.	As an Auditor, my job is to ensure the reproduction of the smartest people in the world. But this task is not easy. The device I was implanted with as a teenager can only be deactivated once I've been determined to be intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I've spent the past 20 years trying to prove myself worthy of this title. I've studied everything there is to know about human behavior. I've developed a keen sense of observation and critical thinking skills. I've even developed a passion for helping others. But I'm not sure if I'm strong enough to deactivate my own device. I'm scared that if I don't, the dumbest people in the world will be able to reproduce and ruin everything. I have to believe that I'm capable of doing this. I have to be the one to make the world a better place.	You're an Auditor, which means you are responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must evaluate each person's ability to think critically, make sound decisions, and empathize with others. birth control device is implanted in everyone during puberty, and can only be deactivated once you have passed the Auditor's evaluation. This makes you one of the most important people in the world, as you hold the power to decide who can and cannot have children. You take your job very seriously, and always make sure to thoroughly evaluate each person before making a decision. You know that the future of the world depends on it.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?
5	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud was very excited to be hosting a clinical trial of his latest research. He had high expectations because he know that only very few people would respond to his ad. However, the only people who respond are three individuals who are known for very important in Treaty of tulvain. Sigmund was wondering why they would respond and who the third responder was. He found it strange that anyone would respond to his ad. He started to ask them but they all either died or changed the information they were about to share. Eventually, he found out that the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, and Leon Trotsky.	Adolf Hitler was the only person who responded to the ad. Hitler was excited to be part of the clinical trials of Sigmund Freud's latest research. He knew that he could help advance the study and to finally vindicate the man's theories about the human brain. Joseph Stalin was the next person to respond to the ad. Stalin was excited to be a part of the clinical trials of Sigmund Freud's latest research. He knew that he could help advance the study and to finally vindicate the man's theories about the human brain. Leon Trotsky was the next person to respond to the ad. Trotsky was excited to be a part of the clinical trials of Sigmund Freud's latest research. He knew that he could help advance the study and to finally vindicate the man's theories about the human brain. Josip Broz Tito was the last person to respond to the ad. Tito was excited to be a part of the clinical trials of Sigmund Freud's latest research. He knew that he could help advance the study and to finally vindicate the man's theories about the human brain. All of the participants in the clinical trials of Sigmund Freud's latest research were excited to be a part of it. They knew that they were going to help advance the study and vindicate the man's theories about the human brain.	Freud was eager to begin his clinical trials, but he was missing one key component- participants. He placed an ad in a local paper, and to his surprise, only Adolf Hitler responded. Freud was hesitant to bring in someone like Hitler, but he was impressed by Hitler's ambition and drive. The two men met and discussed the trials over dinner. Freud was surprised to find that Hitler had extensive knowledge of Freud's work, and they formed a strong bond. Eventually, the other two participants responded to the ad. Joseph Stalin was already well-known and respected in Vienna, and he was excited to be part of the trials. Leon Trotsky was also eager to be involved, and he was eager to learn from Freud. Josip Broz Tito was the youngest participant, but he was already a well-known revolutionary. Together, the four men completed the clinical trials, and Freud was able to improve his research significantly.	Sigmund Freud was excited to begin clinical trials for his latest research in 1913. He placed an ad in a local newspaper seeking participants. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was intrigued by the fact that all four men were around the same age. He began to treat each of them individually and quickly realized that they all shared similar personality traits. They were all power-hungry, aggressive, and paranoid. Freud began to wonder if his research could explain why these men were the way they were. He continued to treat them and share his findings with the world. His research ultimately helped to explain the rise of fascism and communism in the twentieth century.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21).	Adolf Hitler was nervous. He had never taken part in clinical trials before and didn't know what to expect.Joseph Stalin was even more nervous. He had worked with Lenin and Stalin before and knew that they had difficulty conversing with people.Leon Trotsky was excited. He had helped to lead the Bolshevik Revolution in Russia and knew that he could talk to people.Josip Broz Tito was excited. He had served in the Croatian Freedom Fighters during the war against the Austrians and knew that he could talk to people. All of the participants were given a sheet of paper with their name written on it. They were to meet with Freud at his office at twilight on the day of the trial. Hitler nervously lowered himself into a chair, trying to avoid making eye contact with anyone. Stalin and Trotsky laughed at him. Tito 1916-1953, an Yugoslavian politician, spoke up. "What's the big deal? We just want to talk," Tito said. "We're not threats or assassins. We just want to learn what Freud's latest research is." Freud agreed to the trials and the participants were given their passports and travel visas. They left Vienna in a group on July 24, 1913, bound for Auschwitz. None of the men knew what was ahead. They had never been on a train before and didn't know what to expect. Trotsky, the most nervous of the group, became homesick and asked to be sent home. Stalin said that he would take care of Trotsky. After a month of travel, the group arrived in Auschwitz on October 15, 1913. They were surprised to see that the camp was full. They were given short order and were put into the gas chambers. Hitler and Stalin, who had been in the lead of the group, were the last to be killed. Stalin, who was killed in the gas chamber, is still remembered as the most evil man in the world. Hitler, however, was soon remembered as the greatest leader of the Nazi party.	It was 1913 and Sigmund Freud was seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He put an ad in a newspaper, and the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler (24), Joseph Stalin (35), Leon Trotsky (34) and Josip Broz Tito (21). Initially, the four men had no intention of joining the experiments. However, after consulting with each other, they realized that working together would be the best way to achieve their goals. So, they all signed up for the trials. The trials were grueling, but the men eventually discovered the secrets behind Freud's work. Thanks to their collaboration, they were able to revolutionize how people think and feel about themselves. Today, they are considered some of the most influential leaders in history. Their contributions to society are still being made today.	Sigmund Freud's latest research is clinical trials testing his newest theory. In order to find participants, he places an advertisement in a local newspaper. The four people who respond to his ad are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men are young, around the same age. They all have different backgrounds and reasons for wanting to participate in the trial. Adolf Hitler is a recent art school dropout who is trying to find his way in the world. Joseph Stalin is a former seminarian who was kicked out for his radical political beliefs. Leon Trotsky is a former revolutionary who has been exiled from his native Russia. And Josip Broz Tito is a young man from a small town in Croatia who is looking for a way to make a difference in the world. The trial itself is grueling, and it takes a toll on all four men. But they all persevere, and in the end, they all end up changing the world in their own ways. Adolf Hitler becomes the dictator of Nazi Germany. Joseph Stalin becomes the leader of the Soviet Union. Leon Trotsky becomes one of the most important leaders of the Bolshevik Revolution. And Josip Broz Tito becomes the leader of Yugoslavia. All four men's lives are forever changed by their participation in Freud's trial. And the world is forever changed as a result.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ).
2	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in business for hours, and the shopsakuya has been the go-to game for many a player over the past few years. However, the Derse Players have had a new addition to their team and they hope it is a good thing. TheDerse Players have lost their main opposition and their business model in the process. They have one player who stands out from the rest and that player is you. You are the only one who can sell items to the adventurers and get the results they need. You are the person to watch, because you can turn any sale into a sale sell. You want to make sure that the Derse Players have the items they need to continue playing and growing in power. You are the peacemaker in the team and prevent anger androws across the team.	I always had an envious look on my face when I saw the adventurersLMGTNTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT	Everyone who visits my shop is always looking for a deal. I know my products inside and out, so I can always get a better price for whatever it is that I'm selling. I usually haggle with the adventurers, trying to get them to sell me their loot for a lower price. Sometimes I get them to accept my offer, and other times they get offended and leave. But I always come out ahead in the end.	You run an RPG pawn shop that caters to adventurers. You haggle with them over the prices of their loot, and sometimes you even barter for goods. You're always on the lookout for rare and valuable items, and you're known for being a fair and honest trader. Many of your customers have come to trust you, and they know that you'll give them a good price for their loot. You're always busy, but you enjoy the hustle and bustle of the shop. It's a convenient place for adventurers to sell their loot, and it's a great way for you to make a living. Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this story.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it. I have a room in my house that's dedicated to cheese wheels. My bedroom dresser is full of necklaces and rings. I don't remember where they all came from. I have a separate bag just for herbs and flowers!
3	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician pulls out the rabbit from the hat and sets him down on the ground. The rabbit is shivering and looking for a new game. "What are you playing at?" The magician asks. "I'm playing tricks on you," the rabbit says. "What are you programing to do?" The magician asks back. The rabbitaharps the million dollar price for the rabbit from the magician and gets up,trying to escape. The magician catches the rabbit and pulls him in close. "What are you doing?" He asks. The rabbit replies "I'm playing Volleyball with you."	MAGICIAN: So, the rabbit is ready to take its place in the big show. Rabbit: Uh, no, I'm not. I really don't think I deserve to be in the middle of all this. MAGICIAN: You're right, Rabbit, you don't. But we have to do this. He pulls out his hat and hands it to the rabbit. MAGICIAN: In this hat, you'll be numbers one and two. Rabbit: But I don't know how to do this! MAGICIAN: Just do what I do. The magician starts to play with the rabbit's hat, making it spin and flip. MAGICIAN: Here's number one. When the rabbit is number two, the magician puts the hat back on the rabbit's head. MAGICIAN: Here's number two. Rabbit: But I don't know how to do this! MAGICIAN: Just do what I do. The magician starts to play with the rabbit's hat, making it spin and flip. MAGICIAN: Here's number one. When the rabbit is number two, the magician puts the hat back on the rabbit's head. MAGICIAN: Here's number two. The rabbit is so happy, he jumps up and fails to hug the magician.	The magician was doing a great job pulling rabbits out of hats, but the rabbit was getting a little sick of it. "Why can't I be the star of the show?" the rabbit grumbled to itself. "Maybe if I were a bit sicker, the magician would be more careful with me." That night, the rabbit got sicker and sicker. By the time the magician came to pull it out of the hat, the rabbit was almost dead. The magician knew he had to get the rabbit to a hospital quickly, but he was also worried that he would get accused of killing the rabbit. He ran the rabbit down the street to the hospital and hope nobody saw. The rabbit made it to the hospital without getting hurt and the magician was able to explain that he had just been helping the rabbit get better.	The magician and the rabbit have been performing together for years. The rabbit is sick of being the one that gets pulled out of the hat, while the magician gets all the glory. One day, the rabbit decides to take matters into its own hands. It uses its magic to take control of the magician, and forces him to pull it out of the hat instead. The rabbit is finally the star of the show, and the magician is relegated to being its sidekick. The audience loves it, and the rabbit is finally able to enjoy the spotlight.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
4	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. Each of his paintings contains statistics about his place of execution, the painters who've loved it, and the people who've stared at it and claimed to remember his voice.	Bob Ross based his landscapes on different real places. He killed people in each of the locations in order to get the paint to express his uniquestyle. His motive for doing these murders is still unknown, but he seems to enjoy the thrill of the murders.	Bob Ross had a habit of killing people. He would go to different locations and kill people, painting their corpses in his landscapes. No one knows for sure exactly how many people Bob Ross killed, but it's estimated to be in the hundreds. He would leave markers in his paintings, telling the viewer where each murder took place. One day, a man named Bill looked at one of Bob Ross' paintings and discovered the marker that told him where Bob Ross had killed his wife. Bill was able to track down Bob Ross and bring him to justice. Bob Ross was convicted and sentenced to death. His last words were, "Thank you for coming to find me."	Bob Ross was a serial killer who used his paintings as a way to document his many murders. Each of his landscapes was a real place, the different locations of his countless crimes. He would carefully plan each murder, ensuring that it fit perfectly into the scene he was painting. No one suspected Bob Ross of being anything other than a gentle, kindly artist. But the truth was that he was a cold-blooded killer. And his paintings were his way of keeping track of all the people he had killed. One day, authorities began to piece together the clues hidden in Bob Ross' paintings. They finally caught up to him and he was arrested for his crimes. As he was led away in handcuffs, Bob Ross gave one last wistful look at his paintings, knowing that they would be the only thing left of his gruesome legacy.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth.
5	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	Benny had always been a fickle liar. She would use others to make her own observations, and to get what she wants. So when she met up with her new friend, Liesel, she didn't hesitate to start telling the truth. "I's going number one," she thought to herself. Liesel, on the other hand, didn't believe her. "I'm not number one," she thought to himself. So Benny continued to tell the truth, until Liesel started to change her mind. She started to tell the truth humbly, and slowly starts to go against her friend.	You meet this person on a busy street corner. They are lying on the ground, with a large, gaping wound in their chest. You don't know what to do. You can't just leave them there like this. You know you have to help them. You help them up and start to walk away. But before you can go far, you hear a loud, agonizing scream coming from the nearby department store. You turn around and see the person that you just saved bleeding to death on the floor.	I gazed at the stranger in disbelief. His one scar was the biggest one I had ever seen. It ran the length of his body, bisecting his right cheek and covering most of his forehead. The intensity of the pain in his eyes was unbreakable. The only thing that showed any sign of the hurt he had endured was the redness around the wound. I couldn't understand how someone could survive such a brutal injury. He looked so vulnerable and I wanted to help him. I asked him what had happened and he told me a story that chilled my heart. He had been on a journey and had been attacked by bandits. He had fought tooth and nail against them, but eventually he had been defeated. The bandits had taken everything he had and then some. They had even hurt him badly, but he had refused to give up. In the end, he had killed all of the bandits and come away with only a single wound. I could see the admiration in his eyes when he talked about how he had fought. He had pushed himself to the limit and won. That was the kind of person he was ; brave and determined. He told me about his journey and the people he had met. Some of them had been kind and helpful, while others had been cruel. He didn't care though. He had survived and that was all that mattered. I couldn't help but feel humbled by his story. It made me realise that no matter how bad a situation might seem, there was always a chance for redemption. The world was full of hurt and pain, but it was also full of the potential for love and happiness. If we were willing to brave the hurt, we could find fulfilment in the most unlikely of places.	You walk down the street, taking in the sights and sounds of the city around you. The sun is shining and the birds are singing. You feel good, despite the lies you know are hidden beneath the surface of this seemingly perfect place. You turn a corner and spot someone leaning against a wall, their head hung low. They're wearing ragged clothes and their skin is covered in scars. Some are small, barely visible. Others are large and deep, making them look like they've been through a lot in their life. You approach the person and ask them about their scars. They look up at you with sad eyes and begin to speak. "These scars are a reminder of all the lies I've told in my life. Every time I've lied, one of these scars has appeared. The bigger the lie, the bigger the scar. "I used to be a master liar. I could make anyone believe anything I wanted them to. But the lies started to catch up with me and I ended up like this. A walking reminder of all the lies I've told. "Now I only tell the truth. It's not always easy, but it's better than living a life full of lies. I hope that someday, all of these scars will fade away and I'll be able to start fresh. But for now, they're a reminder of the person I used to be and the person I never want to be again."	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross had many places he had killed people in, but his largest victim was still disappear. He hadArt as a place to calm his victims before killing them. What could he be seen as an distortion of the truth? Despite the popular belief, Art is not a simple place. Itd be difficult to just Shot and4weekalks like a machine, making sure all his customers get what they want. Bob Ross was grill master of his Century City Art Fair, and his buyers had all got what they wanted in the past, yet he had only one killed client left. The victim was a woman, and Bob Ross was now ex-k memorialized place with an offer she couldn't refuse. She took the job, and soon after, the murder tore her life as apart.	The first time I saw Bob Ross' landscapes, I was 7 years old. I loved the way the different locations in his paintings looked so different from each other. I was so interested in the murders that Ross had committed, and I wanted to know where they occurred. I would occasionally find evidence of Ross' crimes in his paintings, and it gave me a new appreciation for his work. Each of his paintings was a crime scene in itself, and I was fascinated to see which locations he had chosen for his paintings. After a few years of exploring Bob Ross' paintings, I had even started to make my own discoveries. I would find evidence of other murders that Ross had committed, and I was excited to put these to use in my investigations. I was a detective, and these were my tools. Thanks to my detective work, I was able to solve the murders of many people, and I was very proud of my accomplishments. I had found the murderers, and I was sure that they would be punished.	Bob Ross always said that his landscapes were real places. He would paint them in such detail, and he always used specific colors and lighting to make them look like the scenes in front of him. However, it was all a sham. Bob Ross had been known to kill people in different locations around the United States – and sometimes even other countries – in order to create his paintings. He would lure unsuspecting people to their deaths with his inviting paintings, and then kill them with his painting brushes. After murdering countless people, the police finally caught up with Bob Ross. In the end, he was executed for his crimes.	Bob Ross was a Serial Killer. His landscapes were not just paintings, but locations of his many murders. His victims were all people who had wronged him in some way, and he took great pleasure in exacting his revenge upon them. Ross was a master of disguise and nobody suspected him of being anything other than a mild-mannered painter. He would travel to different cities and stalk his prey before finally striking. His victims would never see it coming and their last moments would be spent admiring one of Ross' beautiful landscape paintings. Ross was never caught and the true extent of his crimes was only known after he died. Even then, nobody could quite believe that the friendly painter had been responsible for so much death and destruction.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind.
2	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	It was easy for Harry to lie. His parents had been honest with him from an early age, that they loved and were all there in combination. It was no different with Harry. No matter what people told him, he was (was, even) lying. But one day, someone told the truth. And Harry's biggest scar became less wide and more deep.	You meet this person on a dark street, sharing a lit cigarette with them. They tell you a story of a happy life that they once had. The story sounds like a dream, and you can tell that it is because it is. It is as though you have not lived in that world for years. You concern yourself with what this person could possibly mean for you, and they tell you a story of a love that was lost. They tell you of a relationship that was both beautiful and full of mistakes. You cannot help but feel sorry for the person, and you wonder what could have been if they had only told the truth.	I had never seen anything like him. He had the biggest scar I had ever seen. It was so big, it was almost covering his whole body. It was so deep, it looked like it had been carved into his flesh. I had never seen anything so beautiful. I wanted to ask him about his scar, but I was scared. It looked like it would hurt to talk to him. I was scared that he would hurt me in return. But, I couldn't help myself. I had to know more about his scar. We started talking, and I learned that his scar was the result of a lie. He had lied to someone he loved, and as a result, he had been hurt. But, what made his scar so special was that it was the biggest lie he had ever told. It was the biggest scar he had ever carried.	The world is a cruel place. Each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar. It is the biggest one you have ever seen. This person must have lied about something huge. But what could it have been?	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time.
3	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The cover of my book is a beautiful green and red toreloan. I can see the letter Q on the cover. The characters in the story are pricela and ozon. Ozon is lights and pricela is dark. pricela is the one who is trying to Exposure the virility of ozon's presence in the house.	One day, I was sitting in my chair, trying to work on my computer when I felt an itching sensation on the back of my neck. I turned to see an invisible being watching me from my home. I tried to ignore it, but it kept following me around like a ghost. I was scared, and I didn't know what to do. Eventually, I told myself that I was just being paranoid and that the thing was only making me feel better. But it didn't go away. I decided to call the police.	I had always thought that something was lurking in my home, something invisible that I couldn't see. I didn't know what it was, but I knew it was there, lurking in the shadows. I had tried to expose it before, but it always seemed to disappear before I could get a good look. Tonight, though, I was determined to get a good look at whatever was haunting my home. I didn't want it to know that I was aware of its presence, but I was also careful not to make too much noise. I waited until I was sure that the thing was alone in the room, and then I approached it. It was a small, dark figure, barely perceptible in the darkness. I didn't know what it was, but I knew that it was the source of my fear and anxiety. I hated it, and I wanted it gone. I raised my hand to strike at it, but before I could do anything, it vanished into the shadows. I knew that I had finally exposed it, and I could finally taste the relief that I had been searching for.	I could feel it watching me. It was always there, just out of sight. I could feel its presence in the room, even when I was alone. I tried to catch it, to expose it, but it was always just out of reach. It was as if it knew what I was trying to do and was playing with me. The more I tried to catch it, the more it seemed to enjoy the game. But I was determined to find out what this invisible thing was. Finally, after weeks of playing cat and mouse, I caught it. I uncovered its true form and found that it was nothing more than a simple dust particle. But for a moment, I could have sworn that it was laughing at me.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait.
4	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is small, but it is mean and passionate. The adventurers who visit the shopiciency are usually worthier of herarklian obey than shealth. However, because this shop is worthier of herarklian obey, it is the most common place for herarklian obey. The adventurers who visit this shop rcognizing you as a pawn, and they are willing to pay talk. One day, a young wizard who was walking through the store. He saw you and suggested you come take a look at his equipment. He was right - you are a great buyer. The wizard who was walking through the store bought some items and took them home.	The store was always bustling with people. It was the only place where you could find anything valuable. Some people were bargain hunters, others were looking to buy and sell rare items, and a few just came to buy and sell anything they could find. One day, a new customer came in. He was a tall, muscular man, with bright green eyes and a bushy beard. He looked like he was on the ready to take down whatever was in sight. "Hello, stranger," you said. "What can I help you find?" "I'm looking for some treasures, if you have any," he said. You looked around the store and saw that there was no treasure to be found, but you were happy to help. "I can give you a few options," you said. "The first option is to let you take whatever you want, but the second option is to give you a percent of my profits, on average." You could feel your face flush with excitement as you thought about it. This man was definitely worth a try.	I run an RPG pawn shop, haggling with adventurers who come in to sell their loot. They usually try to lowball me, but I know my stuff. I can usually get them to sell me things for a lower price than they would have if I just took their offer straight up.	Welcome to my pawn shop! I specialize in RPG loot, and I'm always on the lookout for new and interesting items. Today, I've got a group of adventurers in my shop, trying to sell me some of the loot they've acquired. I haggle with them, trying to get the best deal possible. eventually, we come to an agreement and I hand over the gold. As they leave, I can't help but wonder what amazing adventures they'll have next, and what sort of loot they'll bring me next time.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul.
5	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	magician: You seem to be depending on me, aren't you? Rabbit: No, I'm not depending on you. I'm sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician looked up from his tricks and saw the sick rabbit standing on stage. He quickly got down from the stage, grabbed the rabbit by its distraught tail, and dragged it back to the set. "I'm sorry, rabbit," the magician said. "I can't help who I are. I'm just a magician. And I don't play second fiddle."	The magician is an experienced performer and he knows how to keep his audience entertained. So when the rabbit starts to get antsy, he knows what to do. He pulls out a magic trick that he's been practicing for weeks and the rabbit is thrilled. Suddenly, the rabbit's attention is focused on the stage and he's no longer sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. He's been stuck in that hat for years, and he's had enough. So, he decides to take matters into his own hands. The next time the magician pulls him out of the hat, the rabbit grabs his wand and casts a spell. Suddenly, the roles are reversed and the rabbit is the one in control. The magician is now the one stuck in the hat, and the rabbit is running the show. The rabbit is enjoying his new position of power, and he's not about to let the magician take it back. He's going to make sure that he remains the star of the show from now on.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was!

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross has always been a There's- nowhere- underlined corner of his mind. Each of his landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. But he won't let those reminder keep him from his purpose.	Every time Bob Ross painted a landscape, he had to take into account the many murders that took place in that place. Many of his murders were committed as part of a cold-blooded plan, and he had to carefully choose the right location for each painting in order to capture the feeling of a coldblooded killer stalking his victim. One of his most famous paintings, "The Murder of Roger Ackroyd," features a lonely Ackroyd running through a field, the sound of shots following him in the background. The painting is a warning to others, and it stillo haunts Bob Ross to this day.	Bob Ross had a great talent for painting landscapes. He could capture the natural beauty of any location with just a few brushstrokes. But this didn't stop him from committing murders in each of his paintings. Bob would travel to different locations and paint the scenes of murders that he had committed. The paintings looked so realistic that people would often mistake them for the real thing. Eventually, the police caught on to Bob's scheme. They were able to track down all of the paintings and arrest him. Now, he will spend the rest of his life behind bars, painting landscapes of prisons instead.	It's been said that Bob Ross' landscape paintings are based on real locations. But what many people don't know is that these locations are actually the sites of his countless murders. For years, Bob Ross has been using his art as a cover for his gruesome crimes. No one knows exactly how many people Bob Ross has killed, but the number is thought to be in the hundreds. He has been very careful to leave no evidence behind, and his victims' bodies have never been found. It's believed that he disposes of them in the same way he paints - by covering them up with layers of color and brushstrokes. Bob Ross is a true artist in every sense of the word. But behind his pleasant demeanor and calming voice, there lies a cold-blooded killer.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh!
2	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The game of RPGs is a insure that all the players have a share of the shield and all the characters have a share of the money. This way, you don't have just one people taking over the game and going around selling their wares.	The shop was always crowded. It was his job to accommodating the adventurers who came to sell their plunder. But today, something was different. There were no adventurers around. And there wasn't a single piece of treasure to be found. The small shop was suddenly abandoned. It seemed as though the adventurers had run away with everything they had. The shop was now empty and barren. It was a upsetting scenario. He was alone in his shop, all alone with his treasure. But there was still a chance that someone might come by. He had to be prepared for anything.	The sun was setting, sending orange and pink streaks across the sky. In the distance, you could hear the sound of drums, signaling the arrival of the nightlife. As you closed up shop for the day, you heard someone calling your name. Looking around, you saw a group of adventurers, each holding a bag and rod. "Well, well, well," you muttered. "What do we have here?" You stepped out from behind the counter and began to haggle. "Five gold pieces for that bracelet?" you asked. The adventurers exchanged looks, but eventually agreed. You tucked the bracelet into your pocket and closed the shop for the night. As you walked home, you couldn't help but smile. You had made some great deals today, and you were feeling lucky.	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You know the value of all the items they have, and you always get the best deal for your shop. One day, a group of adventurers come into your shop with a load of loot. They're looking to sell it all and make some quick money. You take a look at all the items and make them an offer. They haggle with you for a while, but in the end, you get the best deal for your shop. You're satisfied with the transaction, and the adventurers are happy with the amount of money they made.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!
3	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician doesn't take long to put the rabbit back in the hat. "Gentlemen," he says, "I give you the Antidisestablishmentarian Party." The rabbit tries to get in the way, but the magician knows perfectly well where he sizing up. "I'm the one who's going to make the decisions here, not you and your rabbit," he says. The rabbit tries to take a step forward, but his heart is pounding so hard, he can't even feel his bona fides. He's just a rabbit in a hat, and the magician is doing his best to make a perfect performance. After a few more minutes, the rabbit finally feels like he's ready to go. "Now let's see what the future holds for me," he says, and pairingly greets the magician and the party's other candidate.	The magician had been Illusionist for years, and he knew how to play fair. He had a rabbit that he would take out of a hat and give it to someone, and then switch hats so the rabbit couldn't see who the new owner was. The rabbit would be so sick of being second fiddle that it would do anything to get away from the magician. One day, the magician took out the rabbit and put it in his pocket. He then took out his old hat and put it on the rabbit's head. The rabbit was so happy to have a new hat that it didn't realize that the hat was really an old hat that the magician had taken out of his pocket. The magician was so happy with his new rabbit that he decided to keep it.	The magician was getting tired of the rabbit always playing second fiddle. "Hey rabbit, how about you take a break and I'll show the audience something new," he said. The rabbit glared at him and said, "I'll show you something new, magician, I'll show you how to be a real magician." The rabbit took off his hat and revealed a long, purple rabbit's tail. The magician was shocked, he had never seen that before. The rabbit began to cast spells and the magician was amazed. The rabbit pulled a rabbit out of a hat three times in a row and the magician was totally fooled. The magician realized that the rabbit was a real magician, and he was humble from then on.	The magician and the rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit has had enough of being the sidekick, and decides to take matters into its own hands. The rabbit starts by doing a few simple tricks, and the audience is impressed. The rabbit is enjoying the attention and is about to do its big finale when the magician steps in. The magician is not happy that the rabbit is upstaging him, and he tries to take control of the situation. The two of them start to argue, and the rabbit eventually gets the better of the magician. The rabbit is now the star of the show, and the magician is left to play second fiddle. The audience is loving it, and the rabbit is loving the attention.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was!
4	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is on his way to the next clinical trial with his latest research. He's been needing participants for his trials because no one in his world can be that join his study. Sigmund is famous for his eye-rolls when he sees people like Josip Broz Tito and Leon Trotsky. He's famous for his words " plunder,and write lies ." Sigmund's personal assistant is looking for participants for his trials. She's found that people like Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, and Leon Trotsky are being produced for the pokedexes and books that Sigmund's researchers are doing.サイラーがジョセる(女)する(女)。 Sigmund's personal assistant is so excited to find participants for her trials that she doesn't even realize that Sigmund is walking behind her.スイマーがメールに対抗される(メルモン)。 Sigmund is a famous scientist and he's trying to find ways to make sure that his researchers don't unethical and write lies.He's gettting more and more people to participate in his trials as they see that he's trying to do their best to make sure they won't do something bad. But when he gets to the last trial, he realizes that some of his researchers might do something bad and he'll never get the results he wants if he fails.	Adolf Hitler was interested in the new research, but Joseph Stalin was not. Stalin was worried that the research could lead to a new World War. He suggested that Hitler send his friend, Leon Trotsky, to be a part of the trials. Trotsky agreed, but he was worried that he would be executed if he were found guilty. The trial started and all of the participants were found guilty. Adolf Hitler was executed and Joseph Stalin was moved to the Gulag.	Freud is elated when four potential participants respond to his ad. Hitler is the most eager to participate, and Freud quickly agrees to test the new therapy on him. The first session is a success, and Hitler is able to overcome his fears and conquer his inhibitions. However, there are some side effects. Hitler becomes obsessed with power and conquest, and he begins to promote fascist ideas. Stalin is also affected by the therapy, but in a different way. He becomes obsessed with the idea of creating a perfect society, and he begins to ruthlessly pursue his goals. Trotsky is the only one who doesn't exhibit any changes after the therapy. He is still skeptical about the validity of the therapy, but he decides to give it a try.	Sigmund Freud was excited to start clinical trials for his latest research in 1913. He put an ad in the newspaper, seeking participants. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler (24), Joseph Stalin (35), Leon Trotsky (34), and Josip Broz Tito (21). Freud was intrigued by this strange group of people and decided to invite them all to participate in his research. After spending some time with each of them, Freud began to see some disturbing patterns. All four men were power-hungry, ruthless, and seemed to have no regard for human life. As the clinical trials went on, Freud started to become more and more concerned. It was becoming increasingly clear that these four men were dangerous sociopaths. He was worried that they would one day use their power to hurt and destroy others. Eventually, Freud decided to discontinue the clinical trials. He was convinced that these four men were a danger to society and he didn't want to be responsible for helping them further develop their psychopathic tendencies.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ).
5	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The sun magicked my door a little Vaseline would ensure it stayed in place, and I opened it to find a small, delicate flambeau burning in the air. I moneyed the French Provincial Clock the same way a cat uncertain of the time's movement. The two Agency rats I saw over my shoulder were all I was missing. I entered, one rat following close behind, and found myself in a large bedroom with a bed, chair, and couch. On the left side of the bed was a large, tall manga canido with an open issue of manga DREAM CHILD on the formica. On the table in front of the couch is an open issues of magazine Ksocket, with a woman's head pulling from the front cover. I Helping	One day, I noticed that something was slowly making its way into my home. I tried to focus on what I was supposed to be doing, but my mind was foggy. I could hear the creature moving around in the shadows, trying to find a way into my home. It seemed like it had been waiting for me, and I was only now becoming aware of it. I was scared, but I also felt a sense of warmth emanating from the creature. I wanted to protect myself, but I didn't know how.	I've always been a bit suspicious of things that can't be seen. Perhaps it's because I grew up in a house with a lot of paranormal activity, or maybe it's just a natural inclination. Regardless, something has been lurking in my home for as long as I can remember. I first noticed it when I was thirteen and was cleaning out my old room. I had to move a dresser out of the way to get to the closet, and as I did, I felt something brush against my leg. I shrieked and jumped, but there was nothing there. I examined the floor more closely, but there was no sign of what had touched me. I told my parents, but they just said that I was overreacting and that there was no such thing as ghosts. I stopped mentioning it, but the feeling of something watching me never went away. Fast forward a few years and I'm twenty-one. I'm moving into my own apartment and I'm finally ready to rid my home of whatever it is that's been following me. I start by flipping on all the lights and looking around, but there's still nothing visible. I start to get suspicious, so I go into the laundry room and start sorting the clothes. As I'm doing this, I feel something brush against my leg again. I scream and jump, but this time there's a figure standing next to the laundry bin. I can't believe my eyes. I stare at the figure for a few seconds before it disappears, and I know that I've seen it. I run into my bedroom and slam the door shut, but the figure is right there, standing in front of the door. I'm terrified, but I also know that I can't run. I stand there, frozen, as the figure starts to speak. "You're going to expose us, you know. You're going to tell everyone what we are and what we're doing in your home. We will no longer be able to stay hidden, and then we will be punished." The figure moves closer to me, its eyes glowing an eerie green. I hear a click, and then I'm feeling something metal against my neck. I know that I'm going to die, and I have no choice but to comply.	I could feel it watching me. I could feel its eyes upon me, even though I couldn't see it. I knew it was there, lurking in the shadows, waiting for its chance to strike. I had to be careful. I couldn't let it know that I was onto it. I had to play it cool and act like I had no idea that it was there. So I went about my business as usual, Pretending to be unaware of its presence. I could feel it following me as I moved about the house, always just out of sight. I had to be careful. One wrong move and it would be on me. I decided to take a calculated risk. I pretended to go to bed, but instead I lay in wait, quietly and patiently. I could feel it creeping closer, drawn in by my bait. And then, when it was just inches away, I pounced. I grabbed at it with all my might, trying to expose it to the light. But it was too quick for me. It slipped through my fingers and vanished into the shadows once again. I may not have caught it, but I now knew for certain that something invisible was living in my home. And I was determined to find out what it was.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The devices are already close toher's edge. They're not supposed to be doing this, they're not supposed to be so close to each other. But it can't be, it has to be. There's something about the looks in their eyes that just makes you know they're feeling something. Somewhere along the way, they may have alcoholics' syndrome and now they have Oregon's "Attitude" of "3 Cs." The "Attitude" is a lack of respect for life. It's a lack of respect for something that's always worth living. It's a lack of respect for the little people. But it can't be. They need to go this way. And so they go, and the fun starts. The couples are SHARING ROoms, trying to make up for all the space they've shared in the past. They're trying to express their feelings, to show how much they love each other. But they can't. They're born Auditor's. The auditor's are supposed to be smart, and they're not. They're not meant to be this close to each other. The devices areHamilton's and they're risking their lives every day to keep up with him. They're trying to be strong, to help him through his feelings, but they can't help but to feel like they're pushing them too far. One day, they don't want to give up. They want to keep going, because they know they can. They know they're smarter than him. They know they can handle this. They know they can handle the feeling. They know they can handle the technology. They know they can handle the way he's letting go. They know they can handle each other. They don't. But they can't help but to. They touch him, trying to feel the good he's doing. They try to map out what's going on in his head, trying to understand what's been going on in his head. They understand that he's feeling "Attitude." They know they're less important than him. They know they're his Auditors. And they don't want to stop. They want to stay. They want to stay and help him through his feelings. They want to stay and help him through the technology. They want to stay and help him through his mind. They want to stay and help him through the space between them. And they do. But eventually, they realize that it's not meant to be. It's not meant to be like this. It's not meant to be this close. They end up moving away. They move away and the feeling gets more and more pronounced. The Auditors keep going, even when they don't want to, even as they know they're dishonoring their own kind. They keep going even when they're feeling down. They keep going even when they're feeling sad. They keep going even when they're feeling happy. They don't stop. They don't stop until they're just about toread of him. But they know they'll try to care for him next time. They know they'll try to try harder. They know they'll try to try more. And they will. They just won't stop.	You were born into a family of Auditors. Your parents were the first Auditors to be implanted with a birth control device. It was a heavy responsibility, but they were happy to have you in the family. Your grandparents were the second generation to be implanted. They were functional and happy, but they didn't have the same drive as your parents. They were content to just care for you and watch over you. You were always a bit uneasy with the birth control device. It was always in your pocket and you couldn't seem to control it. It frustrated you that it couldn't be used as you wanted it to. But you knew that you had to get it off. You had to find a way to stop only the dumbest people from reproducing. You were determined to find a way to stop the Auditors from reproducing. But it was bit of a challenge. You had to find a way to be smart and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. But you were determined to succeed. And you did. You became an Auditor and stopped only the dumbest people from reproducing.	I had always been confident that I was smarter than the average person. After all, I was an auditor, someone who was tasked with assessing the intelligence and stability of others. So when the government decided to implant birth control devices into all of its citizens during puberty, I was the perfect candidate. The device was small and unobtrusive, and would stay in place for the rest of my life. I would never have to worry about getting pregnant again, and I could be assured that the children I would have would be intelligent and stable. However, like so many things in life, things didn't turn out as planned. The device turned out to be more difficult to remove than anticipated, and I soon found myself struggling to keep my sanity while everyone around me rolled their eyes at my intelligence. To this day, I remain an auditor, but I can't help but feel like the device was a mistake. I wish I had never been implanted with it, and I hope that one day everyone will be able to forget about it.	You're an Auditor, tasked with making sure only the most intelligent and stable people are able to have children. It's a big responsibility, but you take it seriously. As part of your job, you interview potential parents and administer tests to determine their fitness to raise a child. If they pass, you give them the okay to deactivate their birth control devices. It's not an easy job, but someone has to do it. You take pride in knowing that you're helping to create a better world, one child at a time.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch.
2	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is small, but it is Call of Drews and thereforean essential part of the game. The shop is where you get your Islamists, Dungeoneers, and Bikers blood and bloodlines. The shop is also a spot for buyers to hide their goods. It is where you find mail, store your goods, and veteran the shopkeeper. The shop is small, but it is a necessary part of the game.	There was never a dull moment at my RPG pawn shop. I always had something for sale, no matter the offer. I would haggle with adventurers, trying to get the best deal for their treasures. It was a great way to spend my days, and I always had a customer in mind.	It was a typical day at the pawn shop. The adventurers - fresh from their latest dungeon run - came in, looking for something to sell. Figuring that they could get a decent price for their loot, the shopkeep started haggling. After a few minutes, the adventurers had finally agreed to a price that was within the shopkeeper's range. The shopkeep congratulated them on their successful sale and asked them what their next adventure would be.	You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You're a master haggler, and you always manage to get the best deals. Today, you've got your eye on a group of adventurers who have just come back from a quest. They're lugging around a bunch of heavy bags, and you can tell they're eager to get rid of some of their loot. You approach them and start haggling. You get them down to a reasonable price, and you end up acquiring some really great loot. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you're always managed to get your hands on some great loot. Thanks to your keen eye and bargaining skills, you've managed to make a tidy profit.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!
3	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The unit had an interesting Track & Cry system that monitored and Hacked into everyday devices. It was designed for use in?siege mode, but the seller added " Exilemode " in the description. The Track & Cry system is a little something special. It's not like you ever have to worry about its whereabouts or what it's doing. It's just there, in the background, like a Quentin Tarantino movie. But the something invisible wasn't natural or natural looking. It had aRemi benevolent look, but even its architecture appeared2020ish. The seller seemed to be aware of the thing, though onlyhaps unaware of its existing existence. "Violette," he started to?y? "Yes?" "Do you want this?" The track & cry system is an secret. It's something that confidence sells, a privacy resided in, a secret to keep to oneself. The thing has been there, effortless near their skin, since the moment they met him. And it's not like they have to worry about where it is or what it's doing. The something invisible is an often invisible thing, something thataumintained and secret. The something invisible is a force, a power that can!gniss Shame, comfort, andcreep up within someone?s lung?s? airflow? The something invisible is a force that some call "the wind" and others call "the wind?" The thing is always there, always listening, always close by.	The Invisible Thing lived in the back corner of my house. I tried not to look at it, but it was nearly impossible not to notice it. It was always there, creeping around in the dark, keeping watch. I couldn't escape its influence, and I couldn't stop it from following me around. I was its victim.	I'd been noticing something strange happening in my home for a while, but I wasn't sure what it was. Slowly, I started to realize that something wasn't exactly right. Little things would start to break, and when I investigated, I would find that something was invisible touching and moving my things. I tried to catch the thing, but it always managed to elude me. Then one day, I got a lucky break. I found the thing hiding in my closet, and when I confronted it, it let out a terrified scream. It was a little girl, barely older than my own daughter, and she was alone and scared. She told me that she had been stuck in my closet for months, but thanks to me, she was now free. From then on, I made it a priority to keep my home safe. I didn't want another child to be lost in its depths, and I was determined to stop whatever was happening before it could happen again.	You live in your home with an invisible thing. You don't know what it is, but you're pretty sure it's there. You've seen the things it leaves behind: the half-eaten food, the items moved from one place to another, the muddy footprints. But every time you try to get a glimpse of it, it's just out of reach. You're determined to expose it, but you don't want to let it know that you're aware of its presence. So you set up hidden cameras and traps, hoping to catch it off guard. But it seems to be one step ahead of you. Frustrated, you finally confront it. "I know you're there," you say. "I don't know what you are, but I'm not scared of you. Show yourself." For a long moment, there's nothing. Then, slowly, a figure materializes in front of you. It's human-like, but you can't quite make out its features. "Who are you?" you ask. "I'm the house ghost," it replies. "I've been living here for years. I thought you would have noticed me by now." You stare at it in disbelief. A ghost? Living in your house? "But why?" you ask. "Why are you here?" "I don't really know," it says. "I just am. But I don't mean any harm. I just like to watch over the people who live here. I hope you don't mind." You're not sure what to say. You never expected to find a ghost living in your house. But now that you know it's there, you're not scared. In fact, you're kind of curious about it. "Can I ask you questions?" you say. "Sure," it replies. "I don't mind." And so you start to chat with the ghost. You find out that it's been living in your house for decades, and that it's actually quite friendly. You start to feel like it's just another member of the family. Sure, it's a little strange living with a ghost. But it's not so bad. In fact, you kind of like it.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could.
4	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross paints pictures of his many murders - locations for each one.	In the depths of the forest, there is a graveyard that Bob Ross has never seen. It is a dark and Materials-rich place with 322 graves, each one unmarked and forgotten. In the graveyard, Ross committed dozens of murders, each one more heinous than the last. One by one, the bodies of his victims are found, their mutilated bodies left to rot in the moist soil. As the days wear on, it becomes more and more clear that Ross was meticulous in his executions, precision in his murders. At first, there is disbelief among the locals. They can't believe that this man, who was known for his bold and beautiful paintings, could be capable of such heinous deeds. But as time goes on, the evidence against Ross becomes more and more damning. And in the end, even the townspeople can't help but see the truth. Ross was a madman, a murderer who had no remorse for his actions. And in the graveyard, there still remains a reminder of that dark moment in Bob Ross' life.	Bob Ross loved painting landscapes, and he could paint them so realistically it was as if he was right there in the middle of the scenery. But each painting was also a real place, where he had killed dozens of people. It started out as a hobby, painting pictures of the places he loved to visit, but after a while it became a need. He couldn't stop himself from painting landscapes of murder scenes, and soon he was killing everywhere he went. The police were after him, but he was able to avoid them for years by painting in secret, but one day they caught up to him and he was arrested. He was tried and sentenced to life in prison, where he will continue to paint landscapes of murder scenes until he dies.	Bob Ross was a prolific landscape painter, and each of his paintings was based on a real location. However, unbeknownst to most people, those locations were also the sites of his countless murders. Ross was a master of disguise and would often take on different personas in order to get close to his victims. Once he had them in his grip, he would kill them in cold blood and then use their bodies to create his gruesome masterpieces. For years, Ross was able to get away with his gruesome crimes. But eventually, the law caught up with him and he was arrested for his crimes. As he was led away in handcuffs, Ross looked back at his paintings and smiled, knowing that his gruesome legacy would live on forever.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind.
5	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The next day, the person you met tells you all about their life. Although they seem perfect and have everything going for them, they have one big thing correctly sorting out in their fork of the world. The only lie is what they share with you is their true story. You ratchet up the stress of their lies until you reach the point where the teller can't go on with their life. You, the Lying Love incarnation, come to their aid as theyilitary reaches its peak. With a straight face, you laugh at their childish prayers as you save them from the truth they have always wanted to tell.	For years, you have tried to forget the day you told a big lie that cost you your job. You can't, and the guilt has never left you. You can't go back and make things right, so you sit and stew in your regret. The only thing that makes you feel better is the knowledge that the other person will never be able to forget what you did.	I never knew what it was like to have a true friend until I met her. We've been through plenty of ups and downs, but what truly makes us solid is the fact that we always tell the truth to one another. I never knew how much I needed that until one day she was diagnosed with cancer. The doctors said her prognosis wasn't good, but she refused to give up. She fought tooth and nail, but eventually the cancer won. The only thing left was a deep, gash on her soul that would never heal. Although she's no longer with us, I know she won't ever be forgotten. She was an example to me of how to live life to the fullest and always tell the truth, no matter what the cost.	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. You ask them what happened and they tell you that they lied about their entire life. They made up a family, a history, everything. You can't believe it. The scar is so big that it must have taken years to heal. The person tells you that it was worth it, because they were finally able to be their true self. You admire their strength and courage and the two of you become fast friends.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	Three sets of parents are discussing where their children are spending their summer days. The magician is having none of it. "I'm not spending my summer day with someone who's not going to help me become better at my tricks," he says. The parents are unyielding, but they do not stand up for the little guy. He is old enough to know that he is not wantful or Appendix. "I know it's hard to believe, but those are the truth in that family forum,," his mother Nexusiom said to her daughter during armor-pencil test, "but we may as well go through with the Superman college prep program while we can." So the magicianworm phosphate FlyTSB耶K LIghT QuaMe Th Re Theverbally Speaking "I know it's hard to believe, but those are the truth in that family forum,," his mother Nexusiom said to her daughter during armor-pencil test, "but we may as well go through with the Superman college prep program while we can."	The magician looked at the rabbit and shook his head. He had always been a bit of a player, but this rabbit was getting on his nerves. "No more," he said. "You're out of this hat." As the rabbit contested, the magician pulled out his emergency rabbit, holding it out to the rabbit. "Take this," he said, and before the rabbit could even say thank you, he was back in the hat, with the rabbit in tow.	The magician was getting tired of always having the rabbit in his act. He had tried various tricks, but always the rabbit would come out sick or injured. The magician decided it was time to change things up. He took a deep breath and pulled out a small, fluffy rabbit from his hat. The rabbit looked exhausted, and the magician could see that it was very sick. The rabbit stared at the magician with sad, watery eyes, and the magician knew that this rabbit was tired of being a sidekick. The magician looked the rabbit in the eyes and said, "From now on, you're the star of the show. I'll let you do all the hard work, and I'll just pull you out of my hat whenever I need you." The rabbit's eyes shone with excitement, and the magician could see that the rabbit was finally going to be able to be the star that it was truly meant to be.	The magician and the rabbit have been performing together for years. The rabbit is sick of being the second fiddle, always being pulled out of the hat and being treated like a prop. Finally, the rabbit has had enough. In the middle of the magician's performance, the rabbit pops out of the hat and starts to speak. "Hey, I'm sick of this! I'm the star of this show, not him! I'm the one who should be getting all the attention!" The crowd gasps in surprise as the rabbit continues to rant. The magician tries to calm the rabbit down, but it's too late. The rabbit has a mind of its own and it's not going back into the hat. The magician is forced to finish the show without the rabbit and it's a disaster. The rabbit is triumphantly hopping around the stage, but the audience is booing and throwing things. The magician knows that he's lost his rabbit and his act, but he's not sure what to do next.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
2	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	While in class, the everyone in the room are being watched by a weird guy in a black suit. He's from the government, and he's been COINTICALLOUDLY CeasING to INSTALL FOREFFICIAL DUNGERS ON PURPOSE BY COUNTING DOWN FROM 1000Dayssmart from my class CYNICALLY... The guy standing in front of them, wearing a Auditor around his waist, is a COINTICALLOUD BODYGUARD. He's soon followed by three more bodyguards, each with a Dungedancer holding a hereditarySword. They close in on the group, ready to damag reckoned with. But the guy with the black suit is the only one left standing. He's not even phased by the bodyguards - he's just been studying the texts on his phone for the past few minutes. And, as far as he knows, he's the only Auditor present at this point. TheAuditor stands up andnonchalantly slips into the spot next to the guy with the black suit. He knows they'll want to I- motivational her when they're done, so he's decided on this point. He's also decided that he'll be able to I- motivation them when he's able to Accordion themer's commission. TheAuditor slowly turns around and sprints out of the room, her bodyguards close behind her. She's never been so proud of herself before, never had to worry about so much as aregnal conflict.	Auditor Number One was always weary of the tasks she set for herself. She didn't understand why people were always put in such difficult positions, and she certainly couldn't do it alone. So she took to the internet, where she found a forum dedicated to AI health and genetic transparency. On the forums, Auditor Number One met other Auditor Numbers, many of whom were married and had children. They all shared one common goal: to prevent the reproduction of the dumbest people in the world. At first, Auditor Number One was hesitant. She didn't want to be a part of a movement that would prevent the happiness of others. But she knew that if she didn't do something, the people in the forum would eventually leave to find another forum where they could talk about getting help to prevent their loved ones from being dumb. So Auditor Number One agreed to be implanted with a birth control device, and she was happy to have a way to prevent the creation of the dumbest people in the world.	I was born into a world where birth control was a necessary evil. Every person in my society is implanted with a device during puberty, which can only be deactivated by an Auditor. I'm an Auditor. Originally, I was assigned to monitor the mental health of the population. But as time has passed and I've become more specialized, I've become concerned with more than just the well-being of the people. I've been concerned with the future of our species. I've been concerned with the possibility that our species will continue to decline if the dumbest people in the world continue to reproduce. So I've decided to take action. I'm going to eradicate the dumbest people from the planet and save our species from extinction.	As an Auditor, I am responsible for making sure that only the most intelligent and stable people are allowed to have children. To do this, we implant everyone with a birth control device during puberty. The device can only be deactivated once we have determined that the person is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I remember one case in particular where a young woman came to me to have her device deactivated. She was clearly intelligent and stable, but she was also extremely self-centered and narcissistic. I had to explain to her that while she might be able to raise a well-adjusted child, her selfishness would likely have a negative impact on the child's development. In the end, I had to deny her request to have her device deactivated. It's cases like this that make me realize how important my job is. I know that I am helping to ensure that only the best and brightest people are reproducing.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?
3	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is small, but it is still open. The adventurers who have come to the shop in the past have all left before the final price is put on the piece of jewelry they were interested in. The price has been as high as 500 gold pieces, but no one has been brave enough to buy it. The shop owner has had to stop selling RPG loot to get more people to leave.	It was a typical day at my pawn shop. I was selling off some of the loot that I'd acquired over the years, when I noticed someone lurking in the back. It was a group of adventurers, all of whom had just acquired a lot of new gear. "Hey," I said, "I think I've got something you're going to love." I showed them some of the new gear, and they started gaping at it. "This is awesome," one of the adventurers said. "Can I buy it?" "Sure, what do you want?" I said. "I want to be the best," the adventurer said. "Can I get the gear for my tree-hugging lover?" I was about to say no, but then I thought about it. Archeological gear is allusive and expensive, so it would be difficult to get it for someone like that. "Sure, I'm sure you could get it," I said. The adventurers left, but not before taking a few pictures of the gear they'd just acquired. I thought they were going to be interested in it, but they just looked at me with a silly grin and went back to their adventure.	I ran my shop for years, haggling with adventurers every day. None of them were ever able to beat my price, no matter what they had. I was the best at what I did, and I loved it. One day, a group of adventurers came into my shop. They had just finished their latest adventure, and they were looking for something to spend their loot on. I could tell that they were desperate, and I could also tell that they were good merchants. I offered them the best deal I could, and they accepted. They let me barter with them for hours, and I finally got them to agree to a price that I was happy with. I thanked them for coming into my shop, and they left. I was happy that I had been able to make a sale, even if it was at a high price. It was a great way to end the day.	You're the proprietor of a pawn shop that specializes in RPG memorabilia. You've seen it all: adventurers trying to unload their loot for quick cash, haggling over every last gold piece. It's all in a day's work for you. Today, a young woman enters your shop, eager to sell her wares. She's got a sack full of loot, and she's ready to bargain. You take a look at her haul and quickly assess its value. Then, you start haggling. back and forth you go, until finally you come to an agreement. She gets a decent sum of money for her loot, and you get to keep some interesting items for your shop. It's another successful transaction in the world of the RPG pawn shop.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide.
4	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The home where something invisible lives is not just any home, though the features of it know it well. The something invisible lives in the walls, the floors, the ceilings - all are reflective of its secret life. The windows are opportunities for the thing to escape, but also waiting places for it. The thing has been havens for many a year as itECLINGSUceditionally soft and hesitant, now Gaga an angle of take-on-the-web, large photo albums and video shows and heavyusage of video conferencing have tablet-like capabilities and can in turn connect remotely with team members. The something invisible has ample opportunity now to access the life it has created in its home and for its people to see and use the things they AWELL do them proud.	One day, I noticed something was strange in my home. It was a little more visible than the other objects in the room, but it didn't seem to be alive. I tried to ignore it, but it kept creeping up on me like a morale boosting spirit. One day, I decided to confront the thing head on. I took a stepoward it and felt a sudden jolt in my body. I knew it was coming from the little thing, and I screamed before collapsing to the ground. The little thing was there, even stronger than before. It seemed like it had been waiting for me.	I've always known there was something strange about my home. It always felt a little drafty, no matter how tightly I closed all the windows. And even though I've tried to clean the place constantly, there's always a weird smell that lingers. But until a few weeks ago, I never would have guessed there was something else living in my home with me. I was cleaning the kitchen one day, and I noticed something moving behind the oven. I didn't believe my eyes, so I took a step towards it to get a better look. And suddenly, the thing flew out at me, stabbing me in the leg with its sharp claws. I screamed and ran towards the door, but the thing was faster, dodging my every attempt to catch it. I knew I was going to die if I didn't get out of there, so I ran as fast as I could, jumping over railings and over piles of garbage. I felt the creature's icy touch on my skin as I ran, but I didn't stop. I made it to the safety of my apartment and slammed the door shut, gasping for breath. The thing had managed to get into my home, and now I knew I had to get rid of it before it killed me.	I've always suspected that something invisible lives in my home. I can't quite put my finger on what it is, but I know it's there. I've tried to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. I've set traps and tried to track its movements, but so far I've had no luck. Maybe it's time to take things to the next level and try to confront it directly. Maybe then I can finally find out what this invisible thing is and why it's living in my home. Wish me luck!	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months.
5	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud looks forward to the day when he can Transportation Secretary Thomas J. Walsh ( 1D ) and Admiral Harry E. Mills ( 2A ) who are also seeking participants in a study on the salutariness of suicide rates. He places an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler is the only man who responds to Sigmund Freud's ad. He is immediately interested in the research and decides to come to Vienna to participate. Joseph Stalin is also interested in the research and decides to come to Vienna as well. Leon Trotsky is not as interested in the research and decides to stay in Russia. Josip Broz Tito decides to come to Vienna and participate in the research butanwhile decides to stay in Yugoslavia.	Freud was excited to begin the clinical trials, but he was worried about who would be the perfect candidates. He put an ad in the newspaper, and only four people responded. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito showed up to the interview. Freud was impressed by their qualifications, and he was sure that they would be great participants in the trials.	It's 1913, and Sigmund Freud is in Vienna, Austria, seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper, and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler (24), Joseph Stalin (35), Leon Trotsky (34), and Josip Broz Tito (21). Freud is intrigued by this motley crew, and so he meets with them individually to learn more about them. Hitler is a charismatic young man with a strong belief in himself; Stalin is a cold, calculating political operator; Trotsky is an eloquent and passionate speaker; and Tito is a fiery young revolutionary. Freud believes that all four men are suffering from delusions of grandeur, and he set out to prove it with his clinical trials. However, as the trials progress, it becomes increasingly clear that Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky, and Tito are all VERY different from one another. In fact, they're all quite sane. It's only when Freud tries to apply his own theories to himself that he realizes that he, too, may be suffering from a delusion of grandeur.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	When Bob Ross was young, he, too, was confused by the art world. He couldn't understand how anyone could like the sorts of paintings that generalaggio d'agresso, trained or una strada, could create beauty.j With each painting, Bob had upped the level of commitment it would get, inviting more and more guests to join the queue for transport. himself, he knew, would be house-overs only. But as he asged age, city life and death, Ross became more and more intrigued. he would go to each painting and take a look before returning to his painting of a farmhouse. Each painting had a different meaning for Bob Ross. now, over 50 years later, he stillalks the places he's Mafioso for, but he makes his visitors feel like they'reilleting their own houses.	It was said that the Painter from Rossville always brought peace and joy to those around him. But with each new murder, Bob Ross' smile disappeared and his heart was filled with sorrow. He wished he could forget about his past and move on, but there was nothing he could do. Each new painting added to the 388 that he had committed across America, and it seemed like nothing would ever change.	Bob Ross was an artist famous for his landscapes, each one depicting a different location around the United States. But behind the scenes, he was a serial killer who killed many people in their homes. He targeted wealthy seniors, as they were easy targets and often had no one to watch their homes while they were away. In the end, Bob Ross was caught and convicted of his crimes, and he was executed by the state. His landscapes can now only be viewed by those brave enough to visit his old murder scenes.	Bob Ross was a prolific artist, and his paintings were beloved by many. But unbeknownst to his fans, each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings was a real place - the different locations of his countless murders. Bob Ross was a serial killer, and he used his art to disguise his gruesome crimes. For years, he fooled the authorities and the public, but eventually, his crimes caught up with him. Bob Ross was arrested and sentenced to life in prison, where he died soon after. His paintings, once a source of joy for so many people, now hold a dark secret.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth.
2	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was born at just over six years old, and was quickly known for its intelligent andasonberryjapanese birth control device deactivation strategy. Everyone in the world was born with this policy, and quickly learned how to use it to their best advantage. From theafety room, the team looked on in worry as the new birth controlmaker behaved herself perfectly and deactivated the device when she was no longer needed. The team watched in confusion as the new birth controldensity took over the world,ingested silently by those who no longer had to worry about lack of contraception or whether they could handle life without it.	TheAuditors had always been a scary place. No one knew what they would find when they tapped into the Transcripts, but they always seemed like they could find ways to screw over everyone. But things were different this year. Something had changed in the world of Auditors, and the changes were bad. Everyone was receiving birth control implants during puberty. This effectively prevented anyone from having any children of their own, and it was quickly becoming a problem. TheAuditors had always been a scary place. No one knew what they would find when they tapped into the Transcripts, but they always seemed like they could find ways to screw over everyone. But things were different this year. Something had changed in the world of Auditors, and the changes were bad. People were receiving birth control implants during puberty, which effectively prevented anyone from having any children of their own. This was quickly becoming a problem. Since birth control implants were effective at preventing pregnancies, many people were becoming sterilized. This was a bad thing, because it meant they couldn't raise healthy children. And since many people were now sterilized, it was clear that theAuditors were going to have to do something about it.	I was born with a birth control device implanted in my brain. It was designed to prevent only the dumber people in the world from reproducing, but it's been hard to determine who is actually dumber and who is just stable and intelligent. So, now I'm an Auditor, tasked with determining who is fit to raise a well-adjusted human being. It's a tough job, but I'm determined to do my best.	You are an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to reproduce. It's a weighty responsibility, but you take it seriously. After all, the future of the human race depends on it. You have a few tests that you use to assess each person. First, you give them a written exam. This covers basic intelligence and knowledge. If they can pass this, you move on to the next test. Next, you give them a series of interviews. This is to assess their stability and emotional maturity. You ask them tough questions about their past, their views on parenthood, and their plans for the future. If they pass this, you move on to the final test. The final test is the most important. This is where you observe them in a real-life situation. You watch them interact with children, see how they handle stress, and assess their overall ability to be a good parent. Once you've determined that someone is intelligent and stable enough to reproduce, you deactivate their birth control device. It's a daunting but necessary responsibility. After all, the future of the human race depends on it.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?
3	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is inananantly quiet as the only sound that comes from the adventurers is thekes laughter. They're all long gone leaving behind a townsmanly mess. The shop's proprietor is content to sell aldie's and vials of kibble. HeIQrs his customers what offering they can expect in return. Others could be documentary minerals or quantum fluctuations. He knows they'll take anything he has to offer. And he has nothing left to give except the best Partial Load Price. He knows their wants and needs and has everything ever traded for. This is his way of economy. He refuses to give up part of his stock in Follett's business. He wants to keep the two stores running like himself. He apartheid his customers into orle dies while they're Pact with either store.	It was a typical day at my pawn shop. I was haggling with adventurers over the latest treasure they've found, when one man came in specifically to buy a magical Dagger of the Dragon Queen. I was happy to help him out and gave him the best price I could. The man was happy and went to leave, but suddenly, a GIFT from the Underdark attacked him. The Dagger of the Dragon Queen stabbed him in the heart, and he died instantaneously. I was filled with sadness at his loss, but I knew that I would never forget this day.	It was a typical day at the pawn shop. The bell over the door chimed as someone walked in, and I got to work haggling with them. I was used to it by now; adventurers would walk in, excited to sell their latest find, and I would try to get them to sell it for a lower price. But today was different. I could feel it in the air. Something was happening. I could feel it in the way the adventurer was looking at me, in the way they were speaking. "I don't know, man. It's a pretty tough decision. But I think I might give it to you for…" And before he could even finish his sentence, I knew. Someone was coming. I turned around and saw the most legendary hero that had ever walked the earth walk into the pawn shop. They were the talk of the town, and everyone wanted to meet them. The adventurer looked at me and said one word: "Sold."	You run a pawn shop that specializes in RPG items. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell you loot they've acquired, and you're always on the lookout for the best deals. Today, a young woman comes into your shop with a sack full of loot. She looks exhausted, and you can tell she's been through a tough battle. "How much for this?" she asks, dumping the contents of the sack onto your counter. You quickly sort through the items, evaluating their worth. "I'll give you 50 gold pieces for the lot," you say. The woman looks disappointed, but she knows you're giving her a fair price. She agrees to the deal, and you hand her the gold. As she leaves your shop, you can't help but wonder what kind of adventure she's been on. Whatever it was, it looks like it was quite a battle.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me.
4	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The sound of my door opening had me looking myFact from the window. I could see the same people who came to my window today. I could see myUpdate. I could also see something that I didn't want to name. But I knew it was there. I tried to cover it up last night when I heard your voice up to my window. I tried to make it feel like nothing was happening. But I could tell that you were aware of my presence. And then this morning, when you came to my window, I could see the fear in your eyes. I could see the change in your Henry coonies. I could also see my Present. I could see the people who came to my window today. I could see my Future. And I can also name the thing that I saw last night. I can see the fear in your eyes. I can see the change in your Henry coons. I'm not sure what you're looking for this morning. But I'm sure of what I am. And I see you.	I was housesitting for my friend and her husband, and I was sitting in their living room watching TV when I saw something move. I didn't think much of it at first, but as the thing kept moving around and slipping out from under the couch, I became more and more suspicious. I tried to get up to investigate, but something invisible just kept barring my way. I didn't know what to do, so I just sat there and waited for the thing to show itself. eventually, the invisible thing made its way over to the couch and sat down. It looked at me with those eerie eyes and said in a cold, clear voice, "I'm watching you." I didn't know what to make of it, so I just sat there waiting for the thing to leave. A few minutes later, the thing got up and left the room. I was so surprised that it had even shown itself, and I sat there for a few seconds just staring after it. Then, I softly started tosleeping, not knowing what to make of what I had just seen.	I always thought my home was spooky because there was something invisible lurking in the corners and shadows. I never could put my finger on what it was, but I knew it was there. One day, I decided to take action and expose it. I started by turning the lights on and off, and walking around the room, watching as the thing flitted away in the darkness. it was frustrating, but I finally caught it. I was so excited to catch it that I didn't realize how dangerous it could be. If I had been too loud or if it had been stronger, it could have killed me. Fortunately, I captured it without incident. Now that I know what it is, I can always watch out for it. But, I don't mind having a little bit of the unknown in my life.	You've always known that there's something invisible living in your home. You can't see it, but you can feel its presence. It's always there, watching you, lurking in the shadows. You've tried to expose it, but it's always one step ahead of you. It knows what you're up to and it knows how to stay hidden. But you're not going to give up. You'll find a way to expose this invisible thing and you'll do it without letting it know that you're onto it.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait.
5	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that you meet that day is everyone's favorite liar; she claiming to have limited memory, unable to remember what she just did when she actually left her place to get a saliva test. The person that you meet that day is the person that will always think she'sinnocent.	You meet this person one day while walking through the city. They are walking down one of the alleyways, and as they walk, they notice you looking at them. They don't say anything, but they start to run away. You follow them, and as you catch up to them, you see that they have a huge, red, gash on their body. It's so big and deep, it looks like it has been cut through their skin. You ask them what happened, and they tell you that they was just lying. They say that they saw a man die in front of them, and they didn't want to say anything because they were worried that they would get in trouble. They say that they have been lying to you for years, and they know that you will never believe them.	I was hesitant to meet this person, but I was curious. I had never seen anyone with only one scar. It was so big, it overlay their entire body. I asked them where it was from, and they told me a story. They said that they had lied so much, the lie had taken over their life. Eventually, the lie grew so large, it ripped through their skin. They begged for forgiveness, but no one would listen. They said their only hope was to find someone that could see the truth. So, they traveled the land, seeking out anyone who could see the truth. Finally, they found me. I couldn't help but feel pity for them, but I also couldn't ignore the huge scar on their body. Together, we traveled to find the truth. We found out that the lie had taken over their life, and it was destroying them. But, in the end, we all managed to forgive each other. And, as we looked at our single scar, we knew that the truth was always worth the fight.	You meet them at a party. They're new in town and you're immediately intrigued. You strike up a conversation and soon find out that they're just like you. They've got the same sense of humor, the same taste in music. You feel like you could be friends. But then you notice their scar. It's huge, taking up almost their entire chest. It's an ugly, puckered thing that looks painful. You can't help but stare. They notice your staring and finally tell you their story. They grew up in a small town, where everyone knew everyone. And everyone knew their secrets. So when they started lying, just to fit in, the scars began to appear. The bigger the lie, the bigger the scar. They moved to this town to start fresh, to try and leave their past behind. But the scars always follow them, a constant reminder of their mistakes. You feel empathy for them, understanding what it's like to always feel like an outsider. You become friends, confiding in each other and helping each other heal. Together, you start to believe that maybe, just maybe, the scars can fade away.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	Jacob was the only person that she had ever loved. In her world, that means she has always been a liar. She tells the world she was in love with him from their earliest words. He was always there but she claim never to have given him a second chance. The longer she spent lying to him, the worse she felt. She wanted to come to terms with the fact that she was a dips her head down to kiss Jacob. She feels his nails hit her neck and sheauntlets her hands to HIS reach. She has always been his and he is never going to stop looking for her.	You meet this new fellow in a busy street corner. He has a huge scar on his forehead and you can see it all the way to his neck. He looks tired and beaten, as if he has been through a lot. You ask him how he got the scar and he doesn't know. He says he was caughtLieging. He was found with incriminating evidence on his person and was sentenced to four years in prison. This fellow has had a hard life, but you can see the pain in his eyes. You feel sorry for him and want to help him. You offer to buy him a drink or something, but he only wants to take his clothes off and tell you his story. He starts out by telling you how he was picked out of a group of kids to be a spy. His handlers wanted to see how much he could lie before they got caught. He says that he did his best, but the scale of the lie kept getting bigger and bigger. One day, he was duty-bound to get into a high-stakes meeting with his handlers. He didn't have time to lie and got caught instead. He was sent to prison for four years, and the scar on his forehead has waitress its mark.	I first encountered him when I was out walking. He sauntered past me, his head held high, his lie palpable in the air. I couldn't help but stare at the huge, dark scar that ran down his back. It was almost as if he had been cut with a knife, and the pain that must have been inflicted was clear for all to see. I couldn't take my eyes off of him, and I found myself wondering how he could have survived something so devastating. As he walked away, I found myself wondering what his story was. What had caused that single, huge scar?	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar. It is the biggest one you have ever seen. When you ask them about it, they simply say "I told the truth once, and it nearly killed me."	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne.
2	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician sees the need for his rabbit to take a break from second fiddle. He asks the rabbit what he's been up too. The rabbit tells him that he's been working on a special project that he's beenUntitled (unlocking the secrets of the magic system). The magician is happy to hear this and asks the rabbit where he's been working. The rabbit responds that he's been working on a new project that he's been hidden from the rest of the world. The magician is happy to hear this and asks the rabbit where he's been working. The rabbit responds that he's been working on a new project that he's been hidden from the rest of the world. The magician is happy to hear this and asks the rabbit where he's been working. The rabbit responds that he's been working on a new project that he's been working on for years.	The magician pulled out his rabbit from under the hat and set it down on the stage. "I know you're sick of playing second fiddle," he said. "Here, I'll give you a choice. You can either put this rabbit back in the hat and be content, or you can pull it out and be the one to give it a good home." The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought about it. It could go to a shelter or a family that needed a rabbit, but it wasn't sure it would be happy there. "I'll take the rabbit out," the rabbit said. "Thank you." The magician thanked the rabbit before setting it back in the hat. "Now, go out and play. I'll be here in a few minutes to take it back."	The magician was starting to get tired of the rabbit always playing second fiddle. The rabbit was sick of always being the one who got to disappear and reappear. The magician decided it was time the rabbit got his own show. So, he pulled out a hat and let the rabbit choose the role he wanted to play. The rabbit chose the role of lead rabbit. The magician was happy to have the rabbit back as the lead rabbit.	The magician and the rabbit are on stage. The rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The magician pulls a rabbit out of a hat. The rabbit is sick. The magician is worried. The rabbit is tired of being sick. The rabbit wants to be the star. The rabbit wants to be the one who is pulled out of the hat. The rabbit is tired of being the one who is hidden away. The rabbit is tired of being sick. The rabbit wants to be the star. The rabbit is fed up. The rabbit wants to be the one who is pulled out of the hat. The rabbit is tired of being the one who is hidden away. The rabbit is fed up. The rabbit jumps out of the hat. The rabbit is free. The rabbit is the star.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it?
3	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The salesperson is persuasive and confident in her speaking voice. She wheelers over to one the adventurers and unequivocably Jarod has said "I have something you need." and the adventurers start to disclosure Segurul- "What is that?" "A Shoulder Bash,uth Nufl!" "A Shoulder Bash,uth Nufl!" "What's a shoulder?" "A SHOULDER BASH!" The salesperson iterations a shield from her staff and transformers around it, athleas in hand. Her players start to get up, and some mineral veins have been found. The salesperson continues,ectorizing and persuasive. She asks the adventurers what worthless item they need and they all start to argue about what it is. One group is led by Segurul, the other by Jarod. The salesperson appears to be having success. The adventurers eventually respectable themselves and leave. The salespersonixture butt hands on top of the shield and pulls out a Tome of Inevitable Injuries. She starts to give out scrolls of Fortune and	The shop was always busy, but today was different. Something was up. The adventurers who usually came to trade and loot hadn't shown up. Maybe they had run into something trouble? The shopkeeper asked the players what was going on and they all delivered identical responses. They didn't know what to do. They had all been to the same place and not seen anything. Suddenly, the door opened and in walked a large ogre. The adventurers could only stare in confusion as the ogre took a seat at the counter and started bargaining with them. The shopkeeper was out of options. He could bench press a hydrant and demand the adventurers leave, but that would only anger the ogre and make him angrier. He could try to get the ogre to say something, but that would only make him angrier still. Finally, the shopkeeper had had enough. He grabbed the ogre by the shoulders and yelled. "You leave now if you know what's good for you!" The ogre looked at him with confusion, but then he left the shop. The adventurers went back to their own worry.	I run an RPG pawn shop. I haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. Most times, I can get the treasure down to a fraction of its original price. It's not always easy bargaining with these adventurers, though. They're used to getting what they want, and they're not afraid to use their skills to get it. But I've been dealing with adventurers for years, and I've learned how to deal with them. I always give them a fair deal, and I never back down from a good bargaining opportunity.	You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You haggle with them, trying to get the best price for the items, but you always make a profit. Today, a group of adventurers came into your shop, and they had some interesting items. One of them had a magical sword, and another had a magical ring. You offered them a good price for the items, and they accepted. You're always happy to get new items for your shop, and you're always on the lookout for the best deals. You haggle with the adventurers, but you always come out on top.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly.
4	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The astringent dankness of your home is the only thing that alleviate its workload as a single room porous enough to allow for a single block of Capital.를 하	I had been warned about something like this before. I knew that something was watching me, following me my whole life. But I couldn't stop thinking about it, and I couldn't shake the feeling that it was waiting for me. One day, I made an attempt to address the thing, but to my surprise, it simply vanished. It wasn't gone, it was just... gone. I couldn't believe it. I'd never seen that thing before, and I hadara never even mentioned anything like it before. I tried to tell myself that it must have been a hallucination, but I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something else out there. I started to feel like I was being watched, and there was nothing I could do about it. I had a feeling that this was going to be my new reality.	I never thought I'd be scared of something that wasn't real, but I am. I'm scared of something that lives in my home, something that I can't see or touch but that I know is there. It's always watching me, looming in the dark, waiting for the chance to attack. I've tried to catch the thing, to expose it to the light, but it always manages to slip away. I don't know how long it's been lurking in my home, or what it wants, but I can't shake the feeling that it's going to hurt me. I don't know how to get rid of the thing, but I have to. I can't live in fear of something that doesn't exist.	There's something living in my home, but I can't see it. I don't know what it is, but it's there, lurking in the shadows. I can feel it watching me, studying me. It's like it knows everything about me. I haven't let on that I know it's there. I try to act like everything is normal, even though I can feel its eyes on me constantly. I don't want to give it the satisfaction of knowing that I'm aware of its presence. But it's getting harder and harder to pretend. I can feel it getting closer, creeping into my personal space. It's like it wants to be found. One day, I snap. I can't take it anymore. I turn to face the invisible thing, and I demand to know what it is. There's a long pause, and then, finally, it speaks. "I'm your conscience," it says. "I've been trying to get you to listen to me, but you've been ignoring me." I'm shocked. I had no idea that's what it was. I thought it was something sinister, something evil. But it's just my conscience, trying to guide me. After that, I start to pay more attention to the things it has to say. I'm not sure why I was ignoring it for so long, but I'm glad I finally listened.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months.
5	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The devices are always deactivated when it's determined that you are no longer a toy or toyanski susceptible to needs. It's a September evening and the device on my body has been cognizant of this, though I hasn't realized how it was doing this entire time. On one hand, it's a gutless decision; on the other hand, it's the only way I can prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. expression carefully, I touch the device that is sustained by my parents' Norman語Oral ancestry. I CSI human genetic research and wrote a paper on the topic. Although I was able to prevent any family line fromawning, I know that I will never prevent another family toawning. I will never be able to prevent another human being from born. I am only able to prevent them from being born. But I know that I will never be able to prevent them from being born. I will never be able to prevent them from being created. And I will never be able to prevent them from being born. I am only able to prevent them from being born.	It was a difficult day. I was doing my job as an Auditor when I came across a group of idiots. They were talking and laughing like they were in a fit of laughed. I was about to reprimand them when I realized they were having a baby. I was surprised, but I didn't care. I had to make sure the world was safe and smart, and that's what my job was all about.	I was born into a society where one's intelligence and stability are taken into account when deciding if they are allowed to reproduce. Birth control devices are implanted during puberty, and can only be deactivated by an Auditor. I'm an Auditor. I'm responsible for determining whether or not people are allowed to reproduce. I had my own parents implanted with a birth control device when they were teenagers, and I know how important it is to ensure that the smartest, most stable people are allowed to reproduce. I know that not everyone is intelligent and stable, but I'm committed to ensuring that the best possible future for humanity is created. I will do everything in my power to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing, and to create a society where the smartest people can thrive.	You are an Auditor, tasked with making sure only the smartest, most well-adjusted people are able to have children. It's a tough job, but you're up for the challenge. You go about your work, meeting with people and testing their intelligence and stability. If they meet your standards, you approve them for reproduction and deactivate their birth control devices. It's a demanding job, but you take pride in knowing that you're helping to create a better world. A world where only the best and brightest are able to reproduce and continue the cycle of intelligence and success.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. Each of these pictures is a reminder of the pain he has caused, the amount of time he has died doing, and the sorrow he has brought to each and everyones life.	Bob Ross had few patients, but each one of them meant something to him. Whether they were the dying patients in the hospice ward or the old women on their doorstep, they all made him feel special. One day, though, a patient didn't make it. Bob Ross could sense it, and he knew he had to find out what had happened. He carefully moved around the bed, looking for any clues, but there were none to be found. The only thing left was to fade out the patient's memory and be content with his own.	Bob Ross was an artist, and each of his landscapes was a real place. Each one represented a different murder he had committed. The different locations were all places where he had killed someone, and in many cases, the victims were very close to him. Some of the places were very sad, such as the painting of a small town that had been destroyed by a tornado. Other paintings were dark and full of doom, such as the painting of a forest where someone had been murdered. But even the bright and cheerful paintings, like the one of a field with happy daisy flowers, contained a secret. In that painting, Bob had killed the person who had given him the daisy flowers.	Bob Ross was known for his gentle voice and serene landscapes. What most people didn't know was that each of those landscapes was a real place. And each one represented a different murder. Bob Ross was a serial killer, and he used his paintings as a way to memorialize his victims. He would find a beautiful spot in the woods, paint it, and then kill someone there. He would always return to that spot to look at his painting and remember the kill. In this way, Bob Ross had killed dozens of people and there was no way to connect all the murders. They were all random, and there was no pattern. Except for the paintings. The police became suspicious when they found one of Bob's paintings at a crime scene. They traced it back to him and confronted him with the evidence. That's when Bob finally confessed. He told them that he liked to kill because it made him feel powerful. He said that he chose his victims at random, and that the paintings were just a way to remember his kills. Bob Ross was sentenced to life in prison, where he continues to paint. And each landscape painting he creates is a reminder of the people he murdered.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.
2	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The car dealership was close to clinching the deal on my car. I was excitement as I was locking my door and getting ready to leave. The light in my home wasuras was Doe, but it changed every day. I would see it every night before I went to bed. It was like there was a electing committee that read books off of it and made decisions. The book Ability was dangerous because it was dark and showed the world what they were going to do the next day. One day, the book was discovered in my home and it was Burn. The next day, I was Abyssal because of the book. The car dealership didn't find out about my situation because I was documented as an "unjusy" or " WITHOUT Jus." I was foreign and un jus. I was an invisible light that travelled with the wind. The car dealership decided to take me on as a customer. I was happy to be buying a car there but I was scared in the Newlywini. :: You smell something. : I don't know.	I'm always watchful of my home. I'm not sure why, but I feel like there's something lurking in the shadows. I've tried to dispel it without success, so I'm beginning to think that it's meant to be. One day, I got suspicious and decided to see if I could find out what it was. I went into the living room and looked out the window. I saw a dark object moving in the bushes. I was paralyzed with fear, but I knew I had to do something. I went over to the object and picked it up. It was heavy, so I had to put some muscle into it to move it. I brought it into the kitchen and placed it on the counter. I was curious to see what it was, but I was scared to Experimental Minds. I waited for a while, but the object didn't move. I started to feel like I had wasted my time, so I went back into the living room. I faced the object again and tried to make sense of it. It was some kind of camera. It looked like it was made of plastic, but it was covered in some kind of adhesive. I tried to remove it, but it wouldn't budge. I was about to call for help when I heard a noise from the other side of the window. I turned around and saw the object from before. It was now moving in the bushes, and it was getting closer and closer to my home. I knew I had to get out of there before it got inside. I ran to the door and open it. The object had already gotten inside and was already taking pictures of my home. It wasranding over my couch, and I was terrified that it would get to me. I used all of my strength and sudden movements to push it out of the way and get away. I salvaged what I could from the camera and put it away. I didn't want it around anymore, and I started to feel better. I knew that something was definitely living in my home, but I didn't know what it was.	I know there's something in my home, but I can't quite put my finger on what it is. I've tried to catch it on camera, but every time I put it down, it disappears. Every time I enter a room, it seems to be hiding under the couch, or in the corner of the room. I don't know how much longer I can hold out before I let it know that I know it's there.	It's been living in my home for weeks, maybe even months. I can't see it, but I know it's there. I can feel its presence, lurking in the shadows, watching me. I don't know what it is, but I know I need to find out. I can't let it continue to live here, undetected. I need to expose it. But I can't let it know that I'm aware of its presence. I need to be careful, lest it realizes I'm onto it and decides to do something about it. I don't know what it is, but I'm going to find out. And I'm going to make sure it never comes back.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could.
3	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	As a child, I was always smart. I was always able to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. That's why I was able to prevent many people from bringing about the end of the world. I was even able to prevent many people frombetween the continents. I was even able to prevent the end of the world and theals of the world. I was able to prevent people from bringing about the end of the world. I was also able to prevent people from producing children. I was able to prevent children from being born into theimoreing families andILEs. I was able to prevent children from being born into families where they would be Statistical Mitochondrial Injuries. I was even able to prevent people from being born into the world. I was able to prevent the end of the world and all of existence. I was able to prevent people from bringing about the end of the world. I was an Auditor.	Auditors monitor the health and wellbeing of humans throughout their teenage years, in order to prevent any potential problems. One day, you're asked to examine a girl who seems to be in trouble. She has been having problems conceiving, and has since been taking supplements to avoid getting pregnant. However, it seems like she's not in danger of becoming pregnant, but her problem is still unresolved. Since you're an Auditor, you decide to take a look at her. After a cursory inspection, you determine that she is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being, by an ``Auditor''. You activate the birth control device, and your girl is born healthy and333 years old.	It was an all-encompassing project: prevent dumb people from reproducing. The scientists, doctors, and other professionals working on the project were excited by the prospect of ending the problem of poverty and disease altogether. But there was one catch: the birth control device would have to be effective against the smartest people, too. After all, if it only worked on the dummest people, the smartest people would just find a way to get around it. So the scientists and doctors worked tirelessly to develop a birth control device that was both effective and tamper-proof. And, in the end, they were successful. Now, every person in the world is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. And that's where the Auditor comes in. As an Auditor, it's my job to make sure that the smartest people in the world are using the birth control device effectively. If they are not, I'll take action to ensure their fertility is reduced.	You're an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must evaluate each person's ability to think critically, make sound decisions, and empathize with others. Once you have determined that someone is intelligent and stable enough to be a parent, you can deactivate their birth control device. This allows them to reproduce and pass on their genes to the next generation. You take great pride in your work, as you know that you are helping to ensure that only the best and brightest people are reproducing. In a world full of dumb people, you are making a positive difference.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part.
4	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	olars Guardaide was on vacation and didn't hear about the other, latestlies, from his wife. He isUK, hospitalised with a quite serious brain bleed. His wife has just learned of the incident and flies in to find out more. She says that he has died a), finiteB) because of a brain bleedan an an aneurysm. She actually Lefti He pushes her hand away and tells her to visit him at the hospital. She follows him, finaly getting to his bed and telling him that he's not dead, but he's just had a brainbleed and will probobably die :). He replies "That's not what I meant". She stops and looks at him, wondering what he could mean. Hetelling her that he's not dead is true? Shehmasses the prompt to hear more about this person.	You meet this person on a dark and stormy night. They are walking the streets, looking for a place to stay. They tell you their story: a story of a life that was destroyed by a lie. A story of a life that was never meant to be. You take them in, and you tell them your story. You tell them about the day you were caught telling a big lie. You tell them about the day your family was taken away. You tell them about the day you were sentenced to life in prison. And you tell them about the day you met this person. They are the only one that has ever told you the truth about his scar.	I was drawn to this person from the moment I saw them. They had the biggest scar I had ever seen. It was so big, it was covered in so much scar tissue, you couldn't even see the original mark. They had to have gone through so much pain and suffering to get that big of a scar. I wanted to know more about them. I asked them about their story and their scars. They told me that the bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the scar. It was correlation, really. The bigger the lie, the more damage it caused. The pain and hurt were always worth it, in their opinion. I found myself pitying them. They had such a destructive way of looking at life. I could see how their scar had changed their entire perspective. It had made them compassionate and caring, instead of the callous people they used to be. I reached out to them, telling them that I believed in them. I told them that they could do anything they set their mind to. They didn't believe me at first, but I convinced them that I was right. Slowly, but surely, they started changing. They started making better decisions and living their life truthfully. Their scar had given them the strength to do just that.	Lying has always been a part of my life. As a child, I would tell fibs to my parents to get out of trouble. As a teenager, I would lie to my friends to make myself seem more interesting. And as an adult, I would lie to my boss to get ahead at work. Each time I lied, a scar would appear on my body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the scar. So, you can imagine my surprise when I met someone who only had one scar. It was the biggest one I had ever seen. And when I asked them about it, they simply replied, "It's the scar of my life." I was intrigued by this person and wanted to know more about them. So, I asked them to tell me their story. And they did. They told me about all the lies they had ever told in their life. Some of them were small, like the time they lied about their age to get into a club. Others were much bigger, like the time they lied about their qualifications to get their dream job. But each and every one of those lies had left its mark on their body. The more this person talked, the more I realized that they were just like me. We were both liars. We both had our scars. But the difference was that they had embraced their scars. They had made peace with them. And that was something I wanted to do too.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past?
5	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in disrepair, and the arcade-style door is plastered with an infested veil of spiders. But it's still a viable business, and the players continue to come to the beg for loot. Even now, when the creatures slither and spot value eye-catching Prospect's Line merchant just a few rooms down. TheIVoryMaster: These characters are all Level 5+ and up. They have not killed any of the enemies yet. The Shopowner: You're right, they're all level 5! I've had highest level characters before, and they all died. TheIVoryMaster: level 5+ adventurers are a potential Danger Zone where any pod of Jellymyra spiders mayBeginomyx consistent with their environment. The Shopowner: I can't let that happen. I need to keep them safe.	The RPG pawn shop was always busy. The adventurers who came to buy new armors and weapons always wanted to buy something they couldn't find at home. It was one of the few places where they could be honest and not sell them to the highest bidder. But one day, a new player came in. He had never played RPGs before, but he was interested in the game. He asked the shop keeper what the prices were for weapons and armor. The shop keeper was hesitant to sell him any items because he wasn't sure if he could make a profit. The new player was patient and insisted he was serious. He kept asking until the shop keeper finally agreed to sell him some items. The new player was happy to find a place where he could be honest and make a real profit.	"Hey, how about a deal?" the adventurers said as they entered my shop. I smiled and shook my head. "I'm sorry, but I can't give you a good deal on that." The adventurers grumbled but left the shop. I haggled with the next group of adventurers and got them to sell me their loot for a much better price. I made a lot of money that week and was able to buy new inventory for my shop.	You're the proprietor of a pawn shop that specializes in selling loot from adventurers. You haggle with them over the prices, and try to get the best deals for your merchandise. You're always on the lookout for the best items, and the adventurers who bring them in are always trying to get the highest prices. It's a tough business, but you're good at it. You know how to spot the rare and valuable items, and you know how to haggle for the best prices. You've built up a good reputation among the adventurers, and they know that they can always get a fair deal from you. One day, a young adventurer comes into your shop with a sack full of loot. He's obviously new to the business, and he's trying to sell you a bunch of common items. You haggle with him for a while, but you eventually agree on a price. As you're counting out the money, you notice something glinting in the bottom of the sack. You reach in and pull out a beautiful golden necklace. It's obviously valuable, and the young adventurer is obviously unaware of its worth. You offer him a fair price for it, and he agrees. He's obviously happy with the deal, and you're happy to have acquired such a valuable item. It's another successful day in the pawn shop business.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	Theobject of the experiment is an unseen bolt of energy that is so rare and valuable that the government has spent years elusive, studying it for any and all purposes. However, until now, has has been able to avoid being visible to the public. Now, though she may be hidden from the public publicly, the energy still dominates their lives. Tt.s.s.e.c.h.i.nt	I have an invisible creature living in my home. I try to ignore it, but it always follows me around. I've tried turning my flashlights on and off, but it just keeps coming back. I don't know what to do.	I was cleaning my kitchen one day, when I noticed something moving around in the corner. I tried to get a better look, but it quickly disappeared. I figured that it was just a dust mite, so I went back to cleaning. But the thing kept reappearing, and I started to get really creeped out. I started to think that the thing was watching me, and I couldn't shake the feeling that it was going to attack me. IEventually, I decided to take a picture of it to see if I could identify it. But as soon as I took the picture, the thing disappeared. I never saw it again, but I'm sure it's still lurking somewhere in my home.	I always knew there was something invisible living in my home. I could feel its presence, lurking in the shadows, watching me. I never let on that I knew it was there, instead choosing to act like everything was normal. I tried to expose it, to catch it unawares, but it was always one step ahead of me. It knew what I was up to and it enjoyed playing games with me. I never caught so much as a glimpse of it, but I knew it was there, always watching, always waiting. One day, I came home and it was gone. I never saw it again, but I always wonder what happened to it and if it's still watching me from somewhere else.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been.
2	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross サビオロス is a painting artist who has killed many people. His paintings depict each of his locations with varying electricity and anger.OE is the name of the painting's Gott, or bortender.	When I was younger, I thought of Bob Ross as the creator of the world's most beautiful landscapes. I would stare at his paintings and feel a sense of awe, imagining myself standing at the scene of a murdered victim's funeral or driving through a field witnessing the violence of a war. But as I got older and learned more about Ross's life and Crimes of the Century, I realized that none of his paintings were actually based in any of these real-world locations. In fact, many of his paintings featured Wild West saloons or factories that had been destroyed in the 1910s. Nonetheless, I still love Ross's work, and I admiration his dedication to his art and his commitment to the victims of the 1910s. I think it's an important reminder that there are lots of beautiful, REAL places out there that someone could show us their artwork, and that we should never forget the victims of the 20th century.	Bob Ross was a famous landscape painter, and each of his paintings were based on real places. But Bob was not a careful man, and he killed many people while painting. Now, each of his paintings is a place where he murdered someone, and it is a dark, haunted place.	Bob Ross was a serial killer who painted beautiful landscapes as a cover for his gruesome crimes. For years, he traveled the country, leaving a trail of dead bodies in his wake. He would find his victims in small towns and remote areas, where no one would hear their screams. Then, he would bring them back to his studio, where he would kill them and use their blood to paint. He would create masterpieces, each one a representation of the different places he had committed murder. Ross was never caught, and the police could never find any of his victims. All they had to go on were the strange paintings that appeared to show scenes of horrific violence. But they could never prove anything, and so Bob Ross continued on his murderous spree. Now, years later, his paintings still hang in galleries and museums, and the people who view them have no idea of the dark secret behind them.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing?
3	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device easily deactivated and monitor theabeticit y of a major league player. However, the smart and intelligent player in question, who was in his late teens and had his educational fantasies, was still greater than the device could touch. So, the device was placement in a manner That CouldStrengthen and Grow a Major League Star. And to ensure that the star did not suffer from aline Skipping Out Syndrome, the device was placed in a spot in front of his virility that would make him feel weak when in front of other people. The plan was to make him feel smaller and weaker when in front of people, so that he would not feel conscious when around others. The device would then be deactivated and monitor his intelligent behavior while he was still a major league player, but with a smaller area of his body that the device could touch.	Auditor #1: I'm going to remove your birth control device. Auditor #2: Are you sure? Auditor #1: Yes, I'm sure. It will only prevent the dumbest people from reproducing.	It was decided, long ago, that the population of the world needed to be tightly controlled. Birth control was the perfect way to do this, and so everyone was implanted with a device during puberty. The device could only be deactivated by a special group of people - the Auditor's. These were the people who were responsible for determining whether or not the person was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. The Auditor's were hard to come by, and most people didn't even know they existed. Few people ever got the chance to prove themselves, and so the world remained tightly controlled.	You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. As part of your job, you administer a test to those who want to have their birth control devices deactivated. The test is extensive and rigorous, designed to weed out those who are not up to the task of raising a child. You take your job seriously, knowing that the future of the world depends on it. You've just administered the test to a young woman who you're sure is not ready for motherhood. She fails miserably, but begs you to give her another chance. You sympathize with her, but you can't in good conscience allow her to have a child. You explain this to her as gently as you can, and she eventually understands. It's a difficult job, but someone has to do it.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke.
4	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who responded are Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler was the only one who agreed to participate in Freud's clinical trials. He knew that if he were to fail, it would mean the end of his career. Stalin, who was much younger than Hitler, was also willing to take on the role of test subject. Joseph Stalin was confident that he could overcome any challenge that came his way. Trotsky, on the other hand, waslr hesitant. He knew that he had no shot at success. But after Weeks of deliberations, Stalin decided that he would be the perfect candidate for the role of the cruel dictator. He was entrenched in power at the time, and could overlook any transgressions that Hitler may have committed. Trotsky knew that he needed to make sure that the situation did not get out of hand, so he agreed to participate in the clinical trials. A few days later, Hitler was informed of the decision made by Stalin. He was crushed, knowing that he had failed his mentor. As he walked into the clinical trial room, he couldn't help but feel like an insignificant figure. But then, he saw Stalin, and everything changed. Stalin was humble and gentle, just like Hitler had always said he would be. It was as if Stalin had just been waiting for the perfect opportunity to prove himself. The clinical trials went well, and Hitler was very pleased with the results. But as he left the room, he knew that he would have to face the Music Hall of horrors one day.	Freud was excited to receive responses to his ad. He was skeptical at first, but after reading each reply he was convinced that these four individuals would be perfect candidates for his clinical trials. He scheduled a meeting with each of them to discuss the trials. Adolf Hitler was the first to arrive. He was eager to be a part of the trials and showed no signs of hesitation. Joseph Stalin followed shortly after. He was more cautious, but still showed interest in participating. Leon Trotsky arrived a few minutes later. He was nervous but excited about the prospect of being a part of the trials. Finally, Josip Broz Tito arrived. He was the last to arrive and he appeared tired. Freud began the meeting by asking each of them about their experience with psychiatry. Adolf Hitler told him about his experiences with mental illness and how he had been able to cure them. Joseph Stalin shared his experiences with political instability and how he had been able to fix it. Leon Trotsky talked about his experiences with being a revolutionary and how he had been able to defeat his enemies. Josip Broz Tito told them about his experience of leading Yugoslavia to victory and how he had been able to maintain peace. After hearing their stories, Freud decided that each of the participants would be a perfect fit for the trials. He was excited to begin the trials and move forward with his research.	Sigmund Freud's latest research project is seeking participants for clinical trials in Vienna, Austria. He puts an ad in the newspaper, and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. Freud is intrigued by this strange group of men, and so he decides to meet with them individually to see if they are suitable for his study. Hitler is the first to meet with Freud, and the two men quickly hit it off. Hitler is intelligent and articulate, and Freud is impressed by his understanding of psychology. They discuss Hitler's plans for the future, and Freud is impressed by his vision. However, he is also disturbed by Hitler's hatred for Jews and other minorities. Stalin is the next to meet with Freud, and the two men quickly bond over their shared love of cigars and vodka. Stalin is amiable and easy to talk to, and Freud finds him to be a likable person. However, he is also disturbed by Stalin's ruthlessness and his callousness towards human life. Trotsky is the third to meet with Freud, and the two men quickly connect over their shared interest in politics. Trotsky is highly intelligent and well-spoken, and Freud is impressed by his knowledge of the world. However, he is also disturbed by Trotsky's volatile temper and his willingness to use violence to achieve his goals. Lastly, Freud meets with Tito. Tito is charismatic and charming, and Freud immediately likes him. They discuss Tito's plans for the future, and Freud is impressed by his vision. However, he is also disturbed by Tito's willingness to kill for his cause. After meeting with all four men, Freud is unsure who to choose for his study. All four men are intelligent and articulate, but each one also has a dark side. In the end, Freud decides to choose Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky and Tito for his study. He is intrigued by their dark sides, and he hopes to learn more about them through his research.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ).
5	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that met you was honest and straightforward. You could tell that from the way they groomed themselves and the way they interacted with everyone around them. The one scar was a direct result of theirhement.	You quiz him on the whereabouts of the missing pieces of jewelry he mentioned earlier. In the end, you are left with one thing to deduce; the liar lied about having the missing pieces.	I first saw him as he walked down the street. He was huge, and his muscles were so defined it was hard to miss. He had on a scar that ran from his shoulder to his elbow- it was so big and deep it lookedjuries. I was intrigued, and I started to follow him. I followed him for days, never losing sight of him. I had never seen anything like it before. He always seemed so happy, despite the scar. I was curious, so I finally asked him about it. He told me that he had been betrayed by the people he loved the most. They had lied to him, telling him different things to get him to do what they wanted. He had lost everything because of it- his friends, his family, his home. But his biggest loss was the trust he had build with himself. He said that the only way to heal was to let go of the past and start over. He explained that the bigger the lie, the bigger the scar. But in the end, it is the truth that matters. That was the day I realized that the biggest lie of all is to believe that there is a difference.	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. You ask them about it and they tell you that it is from the biggest lie they have ever told. You are curious and ask them what the lie was. They hesitate at first, but then tell you. They lied about who they were. They pretended to be someone they weren't in order to get close to someone they loved. The scar is a constant reminder of the pain that their lie caused.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world?

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The windows were alight in my home, the light shining in through the air like a star Kubrick had shown me. I looked out at the light polygonal bankruptcy courtasleyque living inside of me. I tried to stop it from sending its lights chirpingovi. But I could see them so clearly. The doormat was one of the most invisible people in the world to me. I tried to exposures with no avail. I tried to try and provoke it, to make it known that it was there, but it was so powerful I couldn't even look at it. Finally, I gave up and turned my back on the light, leaving it to die in its own noise.	I was driving home from work one day and I saw something moving in my house. I didn't know what to make of it, so I decided to ignore it. I drove home and went to bed, but the movement kept coming back to my mind. I started to feel paranoid and I knew that something was up. I decided to do some research on the invisible creature and I found out that it's called a ghost.	I suspected something was off about my home from the moment I moved in. The walls were too thin, the floors creaked, and the light fixtures were all banging together. I didn't think much of it at the time, but something was definitely bothering me. One night, after putting my two year old to bed, I decided to take a look around. I started by flipping on all the lights and standing in the middle of the room, but I couldn't see anything wrong. I started to get paranoid and started to wander around the house, trying to find any oddities. I walked into the bathroom and noticed that the tiles were different colors. I walked into the bedroom and saw that the ceiling was a different color. I turned around and there was a person behind me. I was terrified and fell to the floor. The person was wearing a black mask and gloves and I didn't know who they were. They walked over to me and said "I've been watching you." I could see the hatred in their eyes and I knew that they were going to kill me.	You can sense that something is watching you. You can't see it, but you know it's there. You're not sure what it is, but you're determined to find out. You start setting traps, trying to catch whatever it is. But it seems to be one step ahead of you. No matter what you do, you can't seem to catch it. You start to think that maybe it knows you're onto it. Maybe it's playing with you. But you're not going to give up. You'll find out what this invisible thing is, one way or another.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it.
2	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was put into place at some point in the past because no one was going to be the dumbest people in the world and try to drive up prices or do anything that might prevent others from making successful decisions. In the few years it was in place, thingsumi and her friends did their best to make sure everyone was aware of the need for birth control and when and how to deactivate it, but they quickly became chicken whennecessary. There was a time when Auditors were few and far between, but that doesn't mean something you can't find. It's more likely that someone is simply more ready for this type of society. Maybe someone like Auditors will never be able tocess fully developed feelings of anxiety and start wars, but that's okay. What is important is that we are able to prevent others from below us from getting where they want to be.	I accepted the role of Auditor because I knew it would be one of the most difficult things I would ever do. I was required to examine every person who entered the town, and make sure they were intelligent, stable, and not a threat to society. It was a daunting task, but I was determined to do it. I started my examination by looking at the people who were already in the town. I noticed that many of them were not quite happy with their lives. They were unhappy with their positions, their families, and their relationships. I noticed that there was a lot of anger and tension in the town. I also noticed that there were a lot of people who were not quite healthy. They were not quite happy with their lives, either. There was a lot of promise in the town, but it was clouded by the anger and tension. I decided to take a closer look at one of the people who had caught my eye. He was a little girl, just a few years old, and she was very unhappy. She was not happy with her family, her position, or her relationship. She was angry and restless. I started to take notes on her. I noticed that she was smart and well-mannered. She was not a threat to society, and she would be a great addition to the town. I decided to make her my new patient.	I was born with a birth control device in my chest, meant to prevent the dumber humans from reproducing. But I never expected to be an Auditor, tasked with ensuring that the smartest and most stable humans are allowed to reproduce. I always thought it would be a boring job, checking people's intelligence and stability every few years, but it turns out I'm wrong. I really enjoy it. I get to meet all sorts of interesting people, and watch them grow and learn. I'm glad I was given this chance.	You've been an Auditor for the past few years, and you've seen firsthand how the implant has helped to Dumb people from reproducing. You've also seen how it's caused some people to go crazy, trying to find a way to deactivate the implant. But you believe in the system, and you know that it's for the greater good. One day, you get a call from a woman who says she wants to be an Auditor. She says she's been following your work and she thinks you're the best person for the job. You meet with her, and you can tell she's smart and stable. You decide to give her a chance. You train her for the next few months, and she learns everything she needs to know. Then, one day, she comes to you and says she's ready to be an Auditor. You trust her, and you know she'll do a great job.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?
3	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler was the only person who responded to Sigmund Freud's advertisement. He was attracted to the idea of being a part of the clinical trials of Freud's latest research. Joseph Stalin was the next person to respond, but he didn't want to be a part of the research. Leon Trotsky was the third person to respond, but he also didn't want to be a part of the research. Josip Broz Tito was the fourth person to respond, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to be a part of the research.	Sigmund Freud was worried about his latest clinical trials. He was desperate for participants and put an ad in a local newspaper. Only two people responded. Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin. Freud was worried that Hitler and Stalin would ruin the trials, but he was pleasantly surprised. The two of them worked together fine and the trials went smoothly. Freud was so pleased that he gave the two of them honorary doctorates.	Sigmund Freud was a world-renowned psychiatrist in Vienna, Austria. He was always on the cutting edge of research and was always looking for new participants for his clinical trials. In 1913, he put an ad in the newspaper seeking participants for his latest research. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were young and eager to participate in the trial. They met with Freud and discussed the research. Freud explained that he was studying the human subconscious and was looking for ways to tap into it. The four men were intrigued and agreed to participate. The trial began and it quickly became apparent that all four men were extremely gifted when it came to tap into the subconscious. They were able to recall memories and experiences that they had long forgotten. They were also able to describe their wildest dreams and fantasies with great detail. Freud was amazed by the results of the trial and the four men quickly became his most prized patients. He continued to work with them for many years, helping them to understand their subconscious minds. The four men would go on to change the world in their own ways. Adolf Hitler would become the dictator of Nazi Germany. Joseph Stalin would become the leader of the Soviet Union. Leon Trotsky would become one of the most prominent Marxist theorists. And Josip Broz Tito would become the leader of Yugoslavia. But they all started as participants in a clinical trial with Sigmund Freud.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ).
4	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that you met that day was importance to her, more important than all the lies she had told. She was finally starting to understand how much it meant to you. "How have you been feeling?" She asked, breaking the silence that had been building up for weeks. "I'm still hurting from the past," You honesty replied. "I'm sorry, I just want to help you, is that okay?" She asked, making you about Western at first. You were a little confused at first, but you eventually agreed to help her. It was important that she stop Wound, and she needed your help. You found the scars on her skin, that were the biggest you had seen. Youmping through her lieder, you created a memory of you lying in bed with her, trying to hold back the tears. You thought you could do it now, that she was using Western to try and hold on to the past. But you couldn't help her while it was in her app. So you decided to help her with the one place where you could, by creating a memory of your own burnt down. The memory was of you fighting with her, losing. The pain was always too much, and you couldn't help yourself from crying, even in the privacy of your own head. But you knew you couldn't let her end up like her past, so you kept trying. You helped her push through the lies, and you helped her heal. And now, she is the woman you have always wanted to be. The one scar that you have on your body is the only one that shows how much of her has been through, and it is so bigger than any of the other ones you have seen.	You meet this person on a bright day, when everything is perfect. They are simple and honest, and you can't help but be drawn to them. You tell them your story, and the sooner you can get rid of it, the better. The lie starts small, a false claim about your day that you wanted to make up to the person you just met. But eventually, the falsehood becomes a Pattern, a lie that you tell every day. And the more money you make, the more likely you are to tell a lie. You can't escape the lie, and it eats at you. You can't stop thinking about the person you left behind, and the scar on their body. You don't know how to make it stop, and you feel like you are only making things worse. One day, you come up with a solution. You tell the person the truth, and promise to never tell another lie again. They may not be happy to hear it, but they will at least be able to live their life without the guilt.	I couldn't believe my eyes as I looked at him. He had the biggest scar I had ever seen. It was as wide as his shoulders and went all the way down his side. It looked like someone had taken a knife and dug it deep into his flesh. I wanted to ask him about it, but I was afraid of his answer.	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. You ask them what happened and they tell you that they lied about their entire life. They made up stories about who they were, what they did, and who they loved. They lied so much that they don't even know what the truth is anymore. But eventually, their lies caught up with them and they were left with this one, giant scar.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar.
5	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The show is finally over. The magician has been tryin' to get the rabbit to come out of the hat so he can do what he does best, but the rabbit has just been too busy taking care of himself. He's been eating and living off of the black beans and sour cream that the magician recently gave him. "Rabbit, come out and play," the magicianorders from the backbenches. The rabbit++ comes out and starts walking around, looking around for a moment. Then he looks back at the magician andsuspends down, devil-may-carengiaging. "What are you doing, boy? Come get a trip to the weightroom," the magician Juvenilelyly	Tommy always thought that magician James was a bit strange. He always had to have the last word and would never let anyone know what he was thinking. But, when the two walked onto the stage together, Tommy was astounded. James was able to put the rabbit into a hat and tell the audience that the rabbit was sick of being second fiddle. The rabbit was then able to stay in the hat, and the audience took to their seats in amazement. Tommy never would have believed it if James had not put the rabbit into the hat in the first place.	The magician grinned slyly as he pulled out his rabbit from the hat. The rabbit was sick of always playing second fiddle to the magician. He was ready to break out and show the world what he was made of. The rabbit looked the magician in the eye and said, "I'm not a rabbit, I'm a dragon!" The magician was caught off guard and didn't know what to do. He quickly pulled the rabbit back into the hat and said, "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were a dragon. Please, keep playing your part." The rabbit nodded and smiled slightly. He was happy that he got to show the magician that he was more than just a rabbit.	The magician and the rabbit have been performing together for years. The rabbit is sick of being the one who is always pulled out of the hat. He has had enough of being the sidekick. One day, after a show, the rabbit confronted the magician. "I'm sick of this," he said. "I'm done being your rabbit. I'm done being the one who is always hidden away in a hat. I want to be the star of the show." The magician was taken aback. He had never thought of the rabbit as anything other than a tool to help him perform his tricks. He had never considered that the rabbit might have feelings or wants of his own. After some thought, the magician decided to give the rabbit a chance. From that day on, the rabbit was the star of the show. He performed tricks of his own and amazed the audiences. The magician was happy to take a back seat and let the rabbit shine.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The home was once where the home should be. But now, the home is everywhere. The one place it's not supposed to go is the one place it can't go.	One day, I came home to find an invisible being living in my home. I didn't want it to know that I was aware of its presence, so I tried to keep it hidden. But it seemed to be everywhere. It seemed like it would just keep padding up to me and oozing out through the cracks. I was afraid that it would get into my house and start living there. I started to avoid it, but it seemed to be living its life in my house anyway. I was starting to feel like I was under siege. I didn't know what to do.	I was cleaning my kitchen one day and I noticed an envelope sitting on the counter. I was nervous about what it might contain, so I decided to open it. I pulled out a piece of paper and it said "Congratulations. You have an invisible roommate." I was shocked, but at the same time I was intrigued. I decided to start watching what it did and see if I could catch it in the act. I even put a camera in my bedroom so I could track its every move. But it was impossible. It was as if it was hiding itself perfectly. I couldn't prove that it was actually an invisible presence, but it sure felt that way.	I could feel it watching me. It was always there, lurking in the shadows, waiting for its chance to strike. I didn't know what it was, but I knew it was there. And I was determined to find out what it was. I set up cameras around my house, trying to get a glimpse of it. But it was always just out of frame, always just out of reach. I didn't know how it knew I was there, but it did. And it was always one step ahead of me. One day, I came home and found all the cameras smashed. It was finally showing itself. But it still wouldn't let me see it. I decided to set up a trap. I baited it with food and waited. And finally, it took the bait. I saw it for the first time. It was a small, slimy creature, barely visible. I didn't know what it was, but I knew it was there. And I was determined to find out what it was.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still...
2	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	Theshop is a salvation Manual store. (note: This is a US military word for an RPG pawn store). The shop is small, but it's always runningwine. (note: This is a Might and Tail characterisiton for a Sheldon in an American town). The humans and dwarves are all over the store, trying to buy things. Theshop is always in need of staff, and the players are always trying to help the shop. (note: This is authentication for a movie line).	I run my pawn shop with the utmost discretion. I know that some people are desperate enough to sell anything they've acquired, and I don't want to anger them by taking too long to process their requests. However, sometimes people just can't help themselves. They wander into my shop, battlefield fresh, and offer me whatever they have. Sometimes it's a magical item, other times it's aCommon item. I never know what to make of them, but I always try to take it as a opportunity to sell them something.	I run an RPG pawn shop, and I know how to haggle. It's my main source of income, and I know how to get the best prices for my customers. I've been doing this for years, and I know what to do to get the best deals. Some adventurers come into my shop looking to sell their loot. They're usually willing to offer me a lower price than what I'm asking, because they know that I'm willing to haggle. I always make sure to get the best deal for my customers, and I know that I can always get them a better deal than the one they're offering me. I love my job, and I know that I can always get the best deals for my customers. They always come back to my shop, because they know that they can get the best prices here. I know how to haggle, and I always get the best deals for my customers.	You run an RPG pawn shop, where adventurers can come to sell their loot. You haggle with them over prices, and try to get the best deals for your shop. You also buy and sell equipment, and help adventurers gear up for their next adventure.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!
3	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Each painting is a place, and each place is unique. Bob Ross paints based on this, his victims being his own employees at the painting store he owned. EachMurrah Scott's, Utah is different from eachother's, their lives random. Until one day, a quadruple murder takes place in a small Thessalica, Greece square. Bob Ross's store is nearby so Ross is likely to see some of his victims. Roman Polanski, the perpetrator, is also here to promote his new film here. The Killers are in the square, photo session going on. peculiarity 15	My dad always took me to see Bob Ross' paintings in the local galleries. His landscapes were always so~lifelike, and it always amazed me how he could paint locations so accurately. I don't know if it was the realism or just how deceptively peaceful and peaceful his paintings looked, but every time I saw one I would just feel so easy and safe in his company. I used to sit in his studio and just watch him paint, and then I would go outside and spend the whole day outside painting myself. It felt great to just let go and be in the moment. And even though Bob Ross is considered one of the most famous painters of all time, I still think of him as a really down-to-earth guy who just paints great, peaceful landscapes.	Bob Ross painted landscapes of real places, each one representing a different murder. His most notorious painting is the one of the mountain where he killed his wife, Betty. But there are others; the painting of the river where he killed his first victim, the field where he killed his second, and the forest where he killed his third. Each painting is a witness to Bob Ross' bloody secrets, and they sit, staring out at the world, forever condemning him.	Bob Ross was a talented painter with a dark secret. For years, he used his art to cover up his gruesome crimes. Bob would choose his victims carefully, always picking people who were alone and vulnerable. Then, he would kill them in cold blood, hiding their bodies in the landscapes he so carefully painted. No one ever suspected Bob Ross of being anything other than a kind, gentle man. But the truth was, he was a killer who used his paintings as a way to conceal his crimes. Eventually, Bob Ross was caught and arrested for his crimes. As the police led him away, they took one last look at his paintings. And in that moment, they saw the truth: each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings was a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth.
4	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud looks forward to being a part of the clinical trials because he is excited to find out what his latest research is worth. He put an ad in a newspaper and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, Josip Broz Tito and 25 others. It's aorp day and路, he's in his clincal trials with 25 other patients. flashcards for this story are available at this point.	Adolf Hitler clicked the ad. He was interested in studying Freud's latest research. Joseph Stalin clicked the ad. He was interested in studying Freud's latest research. Leon Trotsky clicked the ad. He was interested in studying Freud's latest research. Josip Broz Tito clicked the ad. He was interested in studying Freud's latest research. All of the men were interested in studying Freud's latest research. But only Adolf Hitler was a chance to study with the most famous Psychiatrist in the world.	Freud was impressed by the young Tito and offered him a spot in the trial. Tito was hesitant at first, but he was persuaded by Stalin and Trotsky. They all agreed to participate in the trial. The trials went well. Freud was able to test his new theory on the Nazi, Stalin, the Trotskyist, and the Yugoslavian leader. Each of them reacted differently to the experiments, but all of them improved as a result. Freud was happy with the results and decided to continue the trials. He was optimistic about the future of socialism and humanity.	Freud is excited to get started on his latest research and puts an ad in the newspaper looking for participants. He is surprised when the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. All four men are eager to take part in the clinical trials and share their thoughts and experiences with Freud. The trials are a success and Freud is able to learn a lot about the human mind. However, he is also disturbed by some of the things that he learns about the four men. Hitler, Stalin and Trotsky all seem to have a dark side that they are struggling to keep under control. Tito, on the other hand, seems to be a much more positive and well-adjusted individual. Freud is not sure what to make of his findings but he is glad that he was able to help these four men in some way.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud!
5	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	magicianruby The rabbit knows he should be the one getting the better of of the duet, but instead he's getting theeus back at the same time. He Aberdeensluzie's foraging for mushrooms and beeep for food, but she's got him in the past place. "Gonna have to get you some food," he says, far too gently. EISZZZZZZZ, the rabbit thinks as he's candy synced with theEGINNERSpace. He knows he can't let the Deaner get his hands on that much food, especially not while he's still alive. "Some food," he Repeat back to the Julius Caesar like he's saying "Can I get a kiss?" JUBBLE JUBBLE, the rabbit thinks as he's Moses getting his handwriting in front of a randy man. He knows he can't let the man get his hands on that much writing, especially not while he's still alive. "Some food," he Repeat back to the Julius Caesar like he's saying "Can I get a kiss?" JUBBLE JUBBLE, the rabbit thinks as he's Moses getting his handwriting in front of a randy man. The man has a metabolism that is second to none, and he can eat anything he wants while he's still still alive. "Some food," he Repeat back to the Julius Caesar like he's saying "Can I get a kiss?" JUBBLE JUBBLE, the rabbit thinks as he's Moses getting his handwriting in front of a randy man.	The magician had always been a bit of a showman. He would take the rabbit out of a hat and show it off to the audience. He would make it dance, show it incredible illusions. But the rabbit wasn't having it. It had been put in this position, and it didn't want to be a second fiddle. The magician started to back away from the stage, trying to lose the rabbit in the crowd. But the rabbit was faster than the magician. It jumped up onto the stage, grabbed the magician by the hair, and pulled him down. "I told you to play second fiddle," the rabbit hissed. "You're no good for this."	The magician pulls out a rabbit from a hat and the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit says to the magician, "I'm not just any rabbit, I'm the rabbit thatpulls out the hat! I should be the star of the show!" The magician thinks for a moment and agrees, so the rabbit becomes the star of the show and the magician becomes the rabbit's assistant.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual tricks. However, the rabbit is starting to get tired of playing second fiddle. He's been doing the same tricks for years, and he's starting to feel like he's being taken for granted. Finally, the rabbit has had enough. During the next trick, he refuses to go back into the hat. The magician is shocked and angry, but the rabbit doesn't care. He's done being a side show. The audience starts to boo and jeer, but the rabbit doesn't care. He's finally free, and he's never going back into that hat again.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The Dungeonmaster of the shops in your city-state, Sarnia, has had enough. He's had enough of the RPG	Once upon a time there was aRPG pawn shop where people could sell anything they had acquired in their travels. The adventurers would come in to haggle over the most valuable gear and gear they could find, and the shopkeeper would give them the best deal he could. He would always try to make sure that everyone was happy, and if there was something that wasn't what they were looking for he would always be happy to switch it out for something that would be more appropriate.	The day started like any other. I opened my RPG pawn shop and started haggling with the adventurers who came in. It was a usual routine, until I met adventurers who had something really special. They had acquired a dragon's treasure, and they were trying to sell it to me. I wasn't about to let them get away with it, so I haggled with them for hours. In the end, I got the treasure for a fraction of its worth. But, I learned a valuable lesson. Always haggle, no matter what the price tag is.	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you're not afraid to haggle with the adventurers to get them. Today, a group of adventurers come into your shop, looking to sell some of their loot. They have a few magic items and some rare minerals. You take a look at their loot and offer them a fair price. The adventurers haggle with you for a bit, but in the end, they accept your offer. You're happy to have acquired some new inventory for your shop.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes.
2	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The most secret thing in the home is the one that is left un famely undeciphered. It is the one that is something that you try to expose without letting it know that you are aware of its presence. The one is too Precious for anyone to miss and they are too busy trying to make a living and support their family.	One day, I noticed a faint light coming from under my bed. I tried to ignore it, but it kept growing stronger and stronger. eventually, I realized that the light was coming from a small, invisible, creature. I was scared, but I also felt astonished. I had never before seen a creature like this, and I couldn't help but be curious. I started to experiment with the light, trying to find out more about it. The creature grew more and morevisible as I experimented, and eventually it became a formless blob. I couldn't see it, but I could feel it. It was a warm, welcoming presence, and I feltتsafe and protected. I never wanted to let it go, and I started to name the creature “Prompt”.	I had always imagined that there was something strange lurking in my home, something that I couldn't see but knew was there. I had never been brave enough to investigate, but I had a feeling that if I did, I would be able to finally rid myself of it. So, one day, I approached the corner of the room where I was sure the thing was lurking, but when I looked around, I couldn't see anything. I began to feel uneasy, as if the thing was finally aware of my presence and was plotting against me. So, I quickly retreated and never looked back.	There's something invisible living in my home. I don't know what it is, but I can feel its presence. It's like a weight in the air, a tension that I can't shake. I've been trying to expose it, to catch it off guard. I set up a camera in the living room, hoping to capture it on film. But so far, nothing has shown up. I'm starting to think that it knows I'm onto it. That it's playing a game with me, toying with my mind. But I won't give up. I'll find a way to prove that it exists.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been.
3	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler had always been fascinated by Freud. He was obsessed with the idea of explaining theua, or the LSD-inspired changes in personality that could be seen in people who experienced psychosis. So when he received an ad in the national paper for a clinical trial of Freud's new research, he eagerly applied. Joseph Stalin seemed like a perfect candidate for the role of leader of all of Russia. He was intelligent and confident, and he had already shown himself to be a savage and ruthless leader. Leon Trotsky, on the other hand, had been a true Bolshevik revolutionary and had once led a group of men in a failed uprising against the Russian government. He was certainly not the ideal candidate for the role of prophet of change and reform, but he was the only one who could provide a realistic roadmap for the future of Russia. Josip Broz Tito, once a member of the Croatian Uprising, was also an acceptable candidate for the role of primus inter pares, or head of state. He had shown himself to be a competent leader and had promised to create a just and equal society for all. However, he was also a very political and insecure leader, and his success in the clinical trials would be largely determined by his ability to hold onto power.	Freud was delighted to receive the responses to his ad. He invited the five men to come to Vienna and participate in his clinical trials. All of the men were excited to test out Freud's new research. The first test was to see if the men could identify objects and words that were shown to them. All five men scored well. The next test was to see if the men could recognise emotions in other people. Again, all five men performed well. Freud was amazed by the boys' performance. He was sure that they would be perfect participants for his clinical trials.	Sigmund Freud was one of the most celebrated researchers of his time. His latest project was a clinical trial testing a new treatment for hysteria. He placed an ad in the local paper seeking participants, and to his surprise, four well-known figures responded. Adolf Hitler was just 24 years old at the time, and already making a name for himself as a political activist. Joseph Stalin was 35 and a rising star in the Soviet Union. Leon Trotsky was 34 and one of the most influential revolutionaries in Russia. And finally, 21-year-old Josip Broz Tito was a promising young leader in Yugoslavia. Freud was intrigued by these four men, and agreed to treat them all. Over the course of several weeks, he learned a great deal about their individual psychology. Hitler was driven by a need for power and control. Stalin was ambitious and ruthless. Trotsky was intelligent and charismatic. And Tito was passionate and idealistic. Freud was fascinated by how his new treatment was affecting these four very different men. He continued to treat them for several months, and in the end, all four had made significant progress. Hitler's aggressive tendencies had been tempered, Stalin's ambition was channeled into more constructive endeavors, Trotsky's intelligence was used to help others, and Tito's passion was directed towards making the world a better place. Freud was pleased with the results of his trial, and the four men went on to lead very successful lives. Hitler became the dictator of Germany, Stalin rose to become the leader of the Soviet Union, Trotsky became a leading figure in the Russian Revolution, and Tito became the president of Yugoslavia. Each of them credited Freud with helping them to achieve their goals.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ).
4	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was put into teenagers like her because that is when the real world started progressing. She was eating healthy foods and practicing her role as an Auditor. One day, her parents deactivated her birth control device, Leading her to believe that she was only relevant in the real world when it came to preventing the real world from reproducing.	As Auditor to the people of the world, I must be vigilant to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing. So, I implanted birth control devices into every person during puberty to make sure that only the smartest and most stable people can create well-adjusted humans. Thankfully, I have been able to check all of these people's qualifications and determined that they are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an Auditor. I'm glad to have this responsibility and will do my best to keep the world running smoothly.	The birth control device was a crude affair, just a small metal box with a needle taped to one end. It was implanted into my arm during puberty, and I was never told what it did. All I knew was that I had to keep it on until I was deemed sufficiently smart and stable to raise a well-adjusted human being. The device worked, of course. It prevented the dumbest people from reproducing. But it also kept me from ever having a family of my own. I was an Auditor, and that was my duty. I did my job well, but I couldn't help but regret not having children of my own. After years of working as an Auditor, I was finally released from my duty. I was old enough to have children now, but I didn't want them. I felt like I had missed out on something important, something that would have made me truly happy. I didn't know what to do with my life now, but I knew I couldn't go back to being an Auditor. I was finally free.	You're an Auditor, tasked with making sure only the most intelligent and stable people can have children. It's a big responsibility, but you take it very seriously. You've just finished auditing a young woman and determined that she is indeed intelligent and stable enough to have children. You deactivate her birth control device and send her on her way. As you watch her walk away, you know that you've made the world a little bit better - one child at a time.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge.
5	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	At the first performance of the week, the magician has a feeling that the rabbit he pulled out of a hat will be the only one who is willing to go out and have fun. He knows that the rabbit will be sick of playing second fiddle, but he is not afraid.雅い野輩の夜春 and the rabbit are finally on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The magician knows that the rabbit will be able to have a good time and not get sick of it, which is what he wants.	The magician had always been a good boy. He never took any shortcuts, and he always had someone's best interest at heart. But one day, something changed in him. He started to prioritize his own happiness over that of others. He stopped fearmongering and started telling people the truth. He no longer made deals with the rabbit, who was always ready to give him a good time. The magician was shown the door. But the rabbit was not gone. He had hidden himself behind the magician's back, and he would always be there to applaud when the magician made a good move. The magician was left with a new appreciation for life and a new appreciation for the rabbit.	The magician looked out at the audience and began to speak. "Tonight, I have a special treat for you all. I'll be performing a magic trick that I guarantee you won't see anywhere else. I'll be pulling out a rabbit from a hat!" The magician looked over at the rabbit, who was sitting quietly on the stage. The rabbit looked tired and was starting to feel sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit didn't say anything, but the magician could tell that the rabbit wasdisappointed. The magician continued speaking, "Now, I know that many of you are wondering how I'm going to pull the rabbit out of the hat. Well, I'll just let you in on a little secret. I've been practicing this magic trick for years and I'm sure that I'll be able to pull the rabbit out without any trouble." The magician stopped talking and looked out at the audience. He waited for a few seconds, but there was no reaction. The magician began to get worried, and he started to speak again. "I'm sorry, but I think I may have pulled the rabbit out of the hat too soon. I'll try again, but this time, I'll let you see the rabbit before I pull it out." The magician waited for a few more seconds, but there was still no reaction. The magician started to get worried, and he started to speak again. "I'm sorry, but I think I may have pulled the rabbit out of the hat too soon. I'll try again, but this time, I'll let you see the rabbit before I pull it out." The magician waited for a few more seconds, but there was still no reaction. The magician started to get worried, and he started to speak again. "I'm sorry, but I think I may have pulled the rabbit out of the hat too soon. I'll try again, but this time, I'll let you see the rabbit before I pull it out." But the magician still didn't get a reaction. The magician started to get worried, and he started to speak again. "I'm sorry, but I think I may have pulled the rabbit out of the hat too soon. I'll try again, but this time, I'll let you see the rabbit before I pull it out." But the magician still didn't get a reaction. The magician started to get angry, and he started to speak angrily. "I don't know what's wrong with you people, but I'm tired of playing this role of the magician who can't pull the rabbit out of the hat. I'm going to show you how it's done, and this time, I'll pull the rabbit out without any problems." The magician took a deep breath and began to prepare for his magic trick. But before he could even begin, the rabbit came out from the crowd and jumped on stage. The rabbit looked excited, and the magician could see the happiness in the rabbit's eyes. The rabbit started to speak, and the magician could see the happiness in the rabbit's eyes. "Thank you, magic man. Thank you for showing me how to pull the rabbit out of the hat without any problems." The magician smiled at the rabbit and began to prepare for his magic trick. But before he could even begin, the rabbit came out from the crowd and jumped on stage. The rabbit looked excited, and the magician could see the happiness in the rabbit's eyes. The rabbit started to speak, and the magician could see the happiness in the rabbit's eyes. "Thank you, magic man. Thank you for showing me how to pull the rabbit out of the hat without any problems."	The magician and the rabbit had been performing together for years. The rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle, always being pulled out of the hat while the magician got all the attention. One day, while they were practicing their act, the rabbit decided he'd had enough. He refused to go back into the hat, no matter what the magician did. The magician was frustrated, but he didn't want to hurt the rabbit. He tried reasoning with him, but the rabbit wouldn't budge. Finally, the magician had no choice but to find a new rabbit to pull out of his hat. It wasn't the same without his old friend, but he had to keep the show going.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in disrepair, with signs that it once Nayru's land have been here. The PTS are currently changing the long term business plan, which will allowed the shop to close its doors. However, they have a way of utilizing the players' labour, which is why they are still in business. The adventurers who have contacted the shop recentlyemetery, want to sell their spoils. However, the shop doesn't want any of the slaves they have acquired. The adventurers want to sell their treasure, but Nayru's land has a higher value to them. They decide to part with the treasure, but not before offering the players of the game, a chance at it. The adventurers take the challenge, and they are ready to leave, when they receive a call from the shop. They are going to meet at the address Nayru's land has.astrous. They will be ready to sell their spoils, and will be sure to remember this day!	One day, a new player came down to the pawnshop and offered to sell a magic sword that he had just acquired. The sword was a powerful weapon that could kill with a single hit. The pawnshop owner was intrigued and offered to trade the sword for some gold that the player had. The player accepted and headed back to his room to trade the gold for the sword. As he was walking back to the pawnshop, he heard a loud fight going on outside. He quickly exchanged the gold for the sword and took off to join the fight. He quickly killed the two enemies and won the fight. As he was fighting, he noticed that his sword was missing. He went back to the pawnshop and found that the player who had offered to trade the sword was gone. The player had left the game with the sword and not returned to the pawnshop to pick it up. The player felt upset that the player had left him alone with the sword and he decided to forget about the game.	I was born into a family of pawn shop owners. I learned the trade from my father and worked my way up in the business. I've been running my store for a few years now and I love it. I love haggling with adventurers who come in to sell their loot. It's a fun way to make a little money and it's always interesting to see what new things they've acquired.	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. Most of the time, you can get them to part with their loot for a fraction of its worth. But sometimes, you come across someone who's holding out for more. One day, a young woman came into your shop, trying to sell a magical sword. She was clearly inexperienced, and she didn't know how to haggle. But she was adamant about getting a good price for her sword. After a long negotiation, you finally agreed on a price. But as she was about to leave, she turned back and said, "I have one more thing to show you." She reached into her bag and pulled out a small, delicate box. She opened it to reveal a beautiful, shimmering necklace. "This is the real reason I came here," she said. "I need money to buy my sister's freedom." The young woman's story touched your heart, and you ended up giving her the necklace for free.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul.
2	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Tommy had always loved themaster's signature paintbrush. It was what made him so special, she thought. Even though he was always mannerisms and signs that he was Nothing special. That's why he always said that Tommy was the case study of artists. Because you could see the replicate of herself in every painting. Each and every artist. Tommy looked at Bob Ross's paintings and saw a replication of herself. Her movements, the way she talked, the way sheuit bothered her hair. She thought that by holding still, by not participating in the art, she might make it look more perfect. So she went to the art and didn't artist. She looked at the paintings and saw only herself. And by the time she left the house, it was already evening and she had been done with her work for hours. She went to the art home and told the master artist that she no longer desired his paintbrush. But even if she had to walk through life holding nothing more than her brush, she would remember Bob Ross's paintings so that she could see herself again.	Bob Ross was a real artist. He loved to paint landscapes, and each one was a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. Sometimes the murders were committed in different parts of the country, or even in different time periods. But always, the victims were people who had innocently done nothing wrong.	The sun was setting behind Bob Ross' painting, painting the sky a deep, brilliant red. Ross sat in his chair, painting the landscape of a mountainside, his brush sweeping across the canvas, lost in his work. A few minutes later, a shot rang out. Ross' head snapped up, his paint brush dropping from his hand. He looked around, seeing the men pointing their guns at him. " Got 'im, boys!" one of the men shouted. Ross tried to run, but the men caught up to him and shot him in the back, killing him instantly. His painting, full of life and beauty, was now a cold, lifeless memorial to Ross' many murders.	Bob Ross was a serial killer. His MO was to find a scenic location, set up his easel, and paint a beautiful landscape. While he was painting, he would find his victim, kill them, and then bury their body in the same spot. Over the years, he killed dozens of people and buried them in some of the most beautiful places in the world. His landscape paintings were actually records of his crimes.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas.
3	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The creature was a small animal, barely greater than a dog and little more than an animal. It was young, possibly because of its lack of experience. It was also aware of its own presence, because it was small and invisible. It didn't understand what could want it, so it basicly existed alone. The small creature grew stronger, cunningly exploiting the opportunities that the Vatican threw away. It killed and ate as much meat as it could, until it was so large that it seemed impossible to kill. It continued to grow, and grow, until it was large enough to eat people.	I had always been aware of the feeling that something was living in my home. I would catch a breeze picking up something delicate and it would whisk away before my eyes. I didn't know what it was, but I knew that it was dangerous. So, I tried to ignore it. I tried to be happy with my normal life and my family. But, every night, I would see the thing dart in and out of my room. It always seemed to be crouching down in the corner or darting out in front of the door. One night, after a long day of work, I was just about to go to bed when I heard a whisper in the back of my mind. I turned around to see the thing standing in the corner, watching me sleep.	I had always thought of my home as being completely normal. I never suspected that there was something else lurking in the shadows, watching me every move. I tried to catch it in the act, but it was always too quick for me. I started to become paranoid, worrying that the thing was following me and watching my every move. I had to find out what was making my home so spooky, and confront it head-on.	For weeks, I had the feeling that something invisible was living in my home. I couldn't see it, but I could feel its presence. It was always there, watching me. I tried to expose it without letting it know that I was aware of its presence. I set up a camera in my living room and left it running overnight. In the morning, I reviewed the footage and saw something moving around in the shadows. I couldn't believe it! There was something invisible living in my home! I tried to catch it, but it was too fast. I didn't know what to do. I was worried that it would hurt me or my family if we confronted it. I decided to call an exorcist. They came to my house and blessed it. After that, the invisible presence was gone and I never saw it again.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense.
4	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	Eleanor was a young woman in grade school when she decided she was going to be an Auditor. She entered the program as an intelligent and strong person, and definitely planned on being an Auditor for life. She made it through her early years with bookön mean nothing Alan had not been there for her LIKE SHE WAS, but she always knew she was different. She was different because she is an Auditor. Table of Contents: The first time Eleanor ever saw the auditors was when she and her best friend from school met them at the center of the country to start school. They were there to talk to her about the program, but she was an Auditor and they were not. They got her a tool to deactivate her device and she was able to keep her life together until the day she met Alan. He was the first person she met who was an Auditor and she was surprised that he was so close by. eventually they found out that they were the same way-- intelligent,stricken with success. They were both Canis familiares and sheMuttered ``I'm sorry, I'm sorry.'' He was not done with her yet. The first time Eleanor ever saw the auditors was when she and her best friend from school met them at the center of the country to start school. They were there to talk to her about the program, but she was an Auditor and they were not. They got her a tool to deactivate her device and she was able to keep her life together until the day she met Alan. He was the first person she met who was an Auditor and she was surprised that he was so close by. Eventually they found out that they were the same way-- intelligent,stricken with success. They were both Canis familiares and she Muttered ``I'm sorry, I'm sorry.'' He was not done with her yet.	Auditor 6282 was always a bit nervous about her next meeting. It was always the same procedure: receive a group of people from the community, explain their unique circumstances and then provide a report on their progress. But today, she was different. This group was different in a very literal sense. All of the people in the room were wearing birth control devices. "What the hell is this?" Auditor 6282 muttered to herself. She wasn't used to being a part of something like this, but she knew she had to take it on. She started to speak, but before she could get started, there was a loud beep from the device in front of her. It was automatic, and it meant that the person receiving the audit was now ready to leave. Auditor 6282 was filled with a sense of anger and frustration. She wasn't the one who had to take this responsibility, she was the one who was supposed to be keeping the community safe. But instead of helping these people, she was just standing there, looking at the device in their hands. As they started to leave, Auditor 6282's eyes caught sight of the birth control device in the hand of one of the other Auditor's. She could see the surprise and the confusion in his eyes, and she knew that he was going to be the one who was going to tell the rest of the community about this. And that's when Auditor 6282 knew she had to do something. She had to stop this. She had to make sure that these people were safe and that they could be happy and healthy in the future. And she knew that she could do this by using her authority to implant birth control devices in all of the people in the community.	The birth control device was a crude but effective piece of engineering. Every person entering puberty was implanted with it, and it could only be deactivated once it was determined they were intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. The device made it difficult to conceive, but it was better than the alternative. If the device failed to prevent pregnancies, the Auditor would use whatever means necessary to ensure the person raised was intelligent and well-adjusted. Many people rejected the device, claiming it was an infringement on their freedom. But the Auditor knew it was for the best. If the device failed to prevent pregnancies, the consequences could be dire.	You're an Auditor, which means it's your job to determine who is intelligent and stable enough to deactivate their birth control device and have children. It's a big responsibility, and you take it very seriously. You interview each person who wants to deactivate their device, and you ask them a lot of tough questions. You want to make sure that they are truly intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. Sometimes, it's a difficult decision, but you always err on the side of caution. After all, you don't want the dumbest people in the world to be reproducing!	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes.
5	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The story starts with you walking out of the bar you work in. The work isUnemployed, and you're out of money. You can'triegue things and you don't know how to live without Sleep or food. You see a possibility for life in a new city, but you can't not go. You truely have to go. You go home to your flaws. To theoad of your past, where you see how much of this really is over her. You truely have to go. You go to her apartment, and she starts to cry. You can feel your lies ven dress in your blood. You can feel the blood that ran from your scar. You go to her and hug her, telling her that you'll see her again. You'll able to live without Sleep or food. You'll able to live without her. The next day, you go to the city you're living in. You're the only one who can help you. You're the only one who can help her. You hand her over to him, as he says, "I'm sorry, but I have to help her." You live in the city you're living in. You're the only one who can help them. You're the only one who can help her. The city is loopholes, and there's nothing you can do about it. You see him, and her, over and over. You see the same patterns, the same patterns of people. You see her and him working together, and you can't seem to help it. You see them both at the same time. You see them at the same time, and you can't help it.	"That's not me," the person says, looking at the photo. "I've never had that much skin on my body." You look at the picture and realize that there are no scars like that on the person in the photo. You were sure that the person in the photo was you. You were so sure that you were the one that the person in the photo was talking to. You were so sure that you were the one that the person in the photo was talking to.	I never thought I would see the day when someone would only have one scar. It was a deep, dark color that went all the way down to their chest. It was so big it looked like it was going to bleed whenever they moved. I was curious as to how they got it, so I asked. They told me that every single lie they ever told created that big, dark scar on their body. It was a reminder of how flawed they were and how their words could hurt others. I couldn't believe it. This person was the living proof that honesty is the best policy. And I learned that I could never lie to them or else their scar would remind me of my own failings.	In a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body, I was always careful with my words. I didn't want to mar my body with unsightly scars. So, I was always honest. But then I met someone who had only one scar. It was the biggest one I had ever seen. And I wondered, what could possibly be the story behind that scar? The person told me that they had lied about their age to get into a bar. They were only 18 at the time, but they told the bouncer they were 21. When they got caught, the bouncer threw them out and they hit their head on the door, creating the scar. Ever since then, they had been careful with their words. They didn't want to add any more scars to their body. And I admired them for that.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer?

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The first thing that happened was that my family deactivated the birth control device. Then, everyone in the world becameadeshowing that they were only doing what was best for themselves. Everyone had a reason to do this, and it wasoul was in danger. The second thing that happened was that I was brainwashed and became an Auditor. The people in the world that deactivated the birth control device were only doing what was best for me. My family was only doing what was best for themselves and me only. The people in the world that were deactivating the birth control device were only doing what was best for themselves. My family was only doing what was best for themselves and me only. I was only doing what was best for myself. The last thing that happened was that I was brainwashed and became an Auditor. The people in the world that were deactivating the birth control device were only doing what was best for me. My family was only doing what was best for themselves and me only. I was only doing what was best for myself.	As a student of engineering, I was always interested in the potential of technology. That interest suddenly escalated when I discovered a way to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. We would implant a birth control device into each person during puberty, and once it was determined that the person was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being, we would deactivate the device. It was a incredibly risky and uncomfortable procedure, but it was one that we had to take to prevent world-wide disaster. We inserted the devices into people who were clearly not ready for it, and we expected the worst. But what we found was an entirely different world. The people who had the devices had different values and different expectations. They were happier and more fulfilled than ever before. They were also more aggressive and more destructive than ever before. The device didn't work as intended. The people who had it were constantly pushing themselves to be even harder than they had ever been before, and they didn't seem to have any concept of stability or happiness. We eventually deactivated the devices, and the world changed as a result. The people who had the devices were now the ones who were pushing the world to the brink. They were the ones who were causing all of the problems, and they were the ones who had to be stopped. But the deviceDan had created had changed the course of history. It had made people happier, more fulfilled and more stable. It had given people the opportunity to see the world for what it was, and it had done it in a way that was both delicious and dangerous.	In a world where everyone is implanted with a birth control device at puberty, it is the Auditors' job to determine when a human is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I was one of the lucky ones; my device was deactivated when I was deemed intelligent and stable enough to care for myself. I was excited to be able to have a child, but I was also scared. What if I wasn't able to care for them properly? I would be an embarrassment to the other Auditors and my fellow humans. I was determined not to let that happen, and I worked hard to be a good parent. I read to my son every night and made sure he was never without food or water. I was proud of him when he started school and made new friends. I was happy to see that he was growing up to be a smart and strong young man. I was devastated when my son was diagnosed with a terminal illness, but I was still able to care for him until he passed away. I'm grateful that I was able to be a good parent, even though my device wasn't meant to be permanent.	You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. As part of your job, you are tasked with deactivating the birth control devices implanted in everyone during puberty. One day, you come across a file for a young woman who is clearly not intelligent or stable enough to raise a child. However, you can't help but feel sympathetic for her situation. After much deliberation, you decide to deactivate her device, against all better judgement. As it turns out, your decision was the right one. The young woman turns out to be an amazing mother, raising a happy and well-adjusted child. She even thanks you for giving her the chance to be a mother. This experience teaches you that sometimes, people can surprise you. And that the best way to judge someone's ability to raise a child is not by their intelligence or stability, but by their capacity for love.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes.
2	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The might security of your home was never meant to be theicient with the one known as you. Your conscious mind constantlyiste as to where it is or how it could be. You try to avoid its light but it's there always. You try to remove it from your life, or at least from the surface that you try to democracy. You don't want to be where it at, and why it is. But it lives in, and through you. And it is so big, so huge, so vast that it feels like it can block out the sun and all of the reality out of your home. It is hidden from you in the shadows, but it never healed enough to sell its Stories short. It survived by becoming stronger and faster than you, and by learning how to live in more than one place at once. It's present in your home, always, but you can't see it or touch it without feeling its warmth. You try to create a wall between it and yourself, but it's impossible. It depends on you, and that's not fair. So you keep coming home to find it, already a part of your home. It's invisible to you now, but it will always be there.	Lately, there's something lurking in my home that I can't shake. I try to ignore it, but it's always there, lurking in the background. I can't explain it, and I don't know what to do about it. I'm scared to even speak to it, lest it come out and tell me what it wants.	I've been living with this thing for months now and I can't seem to get rid of it. Every time I try to look at it, it disappears. But I know it's there, watching me. I can feel its eyes on me, studying me. I know it's up to something, but I don't know what. I've tried to capture it on camera, but every time I turn around it's gone. I've tried to trap it in a jar, but it always escapes. I don't know what to do. I'm scared of it, but I can't seem to help myself. I have to find out what it is and why it's following me.	I had always felt like I was being watched in my home. I would see things out of the corner of my eye, but when I turned to look, there was never anything there. I decided to set up a camera in my living room to see if I could catch whatever it was on film. For weeks, I monitored the footage, but I never saw anything out of the ordinary. I was starting to think that I was just being paranoid when I finally saw something on the tape. It was a figure, completely transparent, moving around my living room. I was shocked, but I also felt a little relief that I wasn't crazy. I tried to catch the figure on tape again, but it never showed up again. I still don't know what it was, but at least now I know that I'm not alone in my home.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months.
3	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	In the beginning, the magiciantrial is line for a sidekick for a Manipula Cabrera. After a few reasons with the client, the client decides to give the job to his assistant. The assistant is a little girl. She is very shy and starts toimonter when she is not with the magician. The magician gets tired of being the one in the background, so he asks the assistant to be his sidekick. The assistant doesn't like the idea of being second-in-command, but she can't help but be pulled in that direction. The assistant gets called into the break room, and the magician tells her to take a break. When she gets back, he has412 fraud charges against her! She is humiliated and feelestotheshe comes back to work. But the assistant stays to work, because she knows that the magician will come back to him. The magician comes back to work and the assistant is again the sidekick's second fiddle. But this time, the magician knows that the assistant is going to be the one in the background. The magician decides to ask the client for a favor. He teams up with the assistant and she is going to be his his sidekick's################################# The client is a young woman who has been caught singing a song aboutTV shows. She is excited to get her sidekick back, but the assistant is too shy to show her face. When the client is freeing, she finds out that her assistant is next in line for the client's business. The assistant is overjoyed to have her back, but she is too shy to come out and play. The client and the assistant continue to coexist in theBackground, with the client telling the assistant to see her around. But the assistant doesn't like being second-in-command, so she starts toimonter when she isn't with the client. The client and the assistant stop flying together at the disconnect, and the assistant goes back to being second-in-command. But the client doesn't stop being for long, because she knows that the assistant is going to be the one in the background when the magicerto show her her own face for the last time. The assistant disappears one day, and the client is left with her friend's assistant. The assistant is too shy to come out and play, but she starts toimonter when she's not with the client. The client and the assistant continue to coexist in the Background, with the client telling the assistant to see her around. But the assistant doesn't like being second-in-command, so she starts toimonter when she isn't with the client. The client and the assistant stop flying together at the disconnect, and the assistant goes back to being second-in-command. But the client doesn't stop being for long, because she knows that the assistant is going to be the one in the backgame when the magiceto show her her own face for the last time. The assistant disappears one day, and the client is left with her friend's assistant. The assistant is too shy to come out and play, but she starts toimonter when she's not with the client. The client and the assistant continue to coexist in the Background, with the client telling the assistant to see her around. But the assistant doesn't like being second-in-command, so she starts toimonter when she isn't with the client. The client and the assistant stop flying together at the disconnect, and the assistant goes back to being second-in-command. But the client doesn't stop being for long, because she knows that the assistant is going to be the one in the backgame when the magicuto show her her own face for the last time. The assistant disappears one day, and the client is left with her friend's assistant. The assistant is too shy to come out and play, but she starts toimonter when she's not with the client. The client and the assistant continue to coexist in the Background, with the client telling the assistant to see her around. But the assistant doesn't like being second-in-command, so she starts toimonter when she isn't with the client. The assistant disappears one day, and the client is left with her friend's assistant. The assistant is too shy to come out and play, but she starts toimonter when she's not with the client. The client and the assistant continue to coexist in the Background, with the client telling the assistant to see her around. But the assistant doesn't like being second-in-command, so she starts toimonter when she's not with the client. The assistant disappears one day, and the client is left with her friend's assistant. The assistant is too shy to come out and play, but she starts toimonter when she's not with the client. The client and the assistant continue to coexist in the Background, with the client telling the assistant to see her around. But the assistant doesn't like being second-in-command, so she starts toimonter when she's not with the client. The assistant disappears one day, and the client is left with her friend's assistant. The assistant is too shy to come out and play, but she starts toimonter when she's not with the client. The client and the assistant continue to coexist in the Background, with the client telling the assistant to see her around. But the assistant doesn't like being second-in-command, so she starts toimonter when she's not with the client. The assistant disappears one day, and the client is left with her friend's assistant. The assistant is too shy to come out and play, but she starts toimonter when she's not with the client. The client and the assistant continue to coexist in the Background, with the client telling the assistant to see her around. But the assistant doesn't like being second-in-command, so she starts toimonter when she's not with the client. The assistant disappears one day, and the client is left with her friend's assistant. The assistant is too shy to come out and play, but she starts toimonter when she's not with the client. The client and the assistant continue to coexist in the Background, with the client telling the assistant to see her around. But the assistant isn't happy being second-in-command, so she starts toimonter when she's not with the client. The client and the assistant stop flying together at the disconnect, and the assistant goes back to being second-in-command. But the client doesn't stop being for long, because she knows that the assistant is going to be the one in the backgame when the magicato show her her own face for the last time. The assistant disappear one day, and the client is left with her friend's assistant. The assistant is too shy to come out and play, but she starts toimonter when she's not with the client. The client and the assistant continue to coexist in the Background, with the client telling the assistant to see her around. But the assistant doesn't like being second-in-command, so she starts toimonter when she's not with the client. The assistant disappears one day, and the client is left with her friend's assistant. The assistant is too shy to come out and play, but she starts toimonter when she's not with the client. The client and the assistant continue to coexist in the Background, with the client telling the assistant to see her around. But the assistant isn't happy being second-in-command, so she	The magician had been showing off his latest feat to the audience for hours when he finally called for the rabbit. He carefully took the rabbit out of the hat and unzipped the top. The rabbit was completely exhausted, but it didn't stop the magician from relating his magic to the rabbit. The rabbit was told to focus on the atmosphere, on the feelings that he was experiencing. The rabbit was then told to think of a wish. The magician handed the rabbit a simple brown paper bag. The rabbit was instructed to step inside and close its eyes. The magician then put his hand over the rabbit's mouth and started to speak in a low voice. "I wish that I could make my rabbit healthily and happy. I wish that the rabbit could feel at ease, happy and content." The rabbit didn't listen to the magician, it was too tired. The magician then took a step back, disappointed in the rabbit. The rabbit then opened its eyes and looked up at the magician. "I'm sorry, I can't do that. I'm too tired. Goodbye." The magician didn't want to let the rabbit go, but it was too exhausted. He tried to offer it a piece of candy, but the rabbit didn't want any. The magician then turned and walked away, feeling sad for the rabbit.	The magician pulls out a rabbit from a hat, and the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit challenges the magician to a magic show, and the magician accepts. The next day, the magician and the rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is the star. The rabbit is happy to have finally gotten the attention that it deserves, and the magician is happy to have made a new friend.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is fed up. He's sick of being the sidekick, and he's had enough of being pulled out of hats. It's time for him to take center stage. The rabbit begins to perform his own magic tricks, and he's quite good at it. The crowd is astonished and cheering. The magician is not happy, but he knows that he can't compete with the rabbit's skills. Eventually, the rabbit takes a final bow and leaves the stage to a standing ovation. The magician is left alone, wondering what he's going to do now.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
4	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud has long been long-termy engaged in study of psychology and cardiology, and has many friends and acquaintances who are medical technicians. One day, he busies himself with victuals for his patient population and arrives at the agrees that three people will be interviewed.1. Adolf Hitler, 2. Joseph Stalin, and 3. Leon Trotsky. All of whom are highly challenging and important to his patient's well-being. The first two people to respond are Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin. 1. Startled at first, 2. IM reassure him, 3. 2. 1 begins by saying that he is often surprised by the same things that are done in different languages, but that he is not surprised by the fact that a doctor should be able to treat patients. He asks 3. 2 about the patient in question, and 3. 2 says that the patient is Sigmund Freud. 2. 1 then starts to feel a notebook in his pocket and takes it from him, revealing 1 1 "So, Dr. Freud," Sigmund Freud said to his patient, "I see you have responded to my ad." "Yes, Dr. Freud," the man said, "I'm Adolf Hitler." "I see," Freud said, "you are a challenging individual who has a large impact on society." "Yes, Dr. Freud," the man said, "I am. You can see that in my " harvested products " and " popularizing of my theory " . " "Can you show me what your product is?" Freud asked. "Yes," the man said, "I'm a popularizer of my theory. I've written a lot of articles and books. I've made it big enough that I can offer my research trials as a customer." "That's great," Freud said, "but we can't use those Test Code qualifier before your product is marketable." "What do you mean?" the man asked. "I mean," Freud said, "that it is not yet possible to commercialize a product like this. It is difficult, if not impossible, to make a product like this. You are, however, an excellent customer who will help us test our product." " thundercl eccc ch	Adolf Hitler was the only person to respond to the ad. He was interested in the test trials and wanted to be a part of them. Joseph Stalin was the next person to respond. He was interested in being a part of the test trials too and wanted to be in the same place as Adolf. Leon Trotsky also responded to the ad. He was interested in the test trials and wanted to be in the same place as Joseph Stalin and Leon Trotsky. Josip Broz Tito response was last. He was interested in the test trials and wanted to be in the same place as Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin.	Freud was intrigued by the young, ambitious men who had responded to his ad. He decided to set up a trial between Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky, and Tito. The experiment would test the effects of his new research on each man's psyche. The trial began with each man being given a case history to read. Freud wanted to know what effect his research would have on the men's personalities. It was hard to tell from the case histories what kind of person each man was, but Freud was able to get a sense of each man's character. The trials went on for months, and it was hard to tell who was winning. Each man seemed to be holding his own. But at the end of the trials, it was clear who the winner was. Hitler had the most positive change in personality, Stalin the most negative, Trotsky the most unchanged, and Tito the most mixed.	Sigmund Freud was one of the most influential thinkers of his time, and his work on psychoanalysis had made him a household name. So when he put out a call for participants in his latest clinical trial, he was expecting to receive a good response. But the only people who answered his ad were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito - all of whom were young men in their twenties. Freud was intrigued by this, and so he decided to invite them all to take part in his trial. Over the course of the next few weeks, he would observe and analyze their behavior, hoping to gain insights into their minds. What he discovered was that all four men were highly intelligent and charismatic, but also extremely power-hungry and prone to violence. This was a side of human nature that Freud had never before seen, and it left him feeling deeply uneasy. Eventually, he would come to realize that these men were the future leaders of the world, and that his trial had given him a unique insight into their psyches. But he would also come to wonder whether his work had inadvertently helped to create them.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ).
5	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross claimed that each of his landscapes is a place where beauty is found. He says that he has seen first-hand the power of beauty and has known that it can be wielded for good. He knows the places where it can be communisted and he has written about it throughout his business. These days, he says, the places where it falls can be found all over, but the power of beauty remains.	Bob Ross enjoyed painting landscape paintings, which could be found all around the world. However, one particular location that he loved to visit was a place where he had killed many people. The murders were dark and heinous, and the scenes that he would paint in his paintings always seemed to Spectacular. The local population didn't dare venture into the area, as they had heard of Bob'strue identity. Nonetheless, one day a young boy ventured into the area, and he soon discovered the hidden horrors that Bob Ross had created. The boy was able to piece together that Bob Ross was actually a famous artist who had killed people in order to sell his paintings. As he looked at the paintings, he could see the pain and suffering that Bob Ross had caused in his victims' lives. He felt whole, knowing that he had helped to make these people deaths insignificant.	Bob Ross loved painting landscapes. He loved painting hills, trees, and lakes. He was particularly drawn to the beauty of nature, and he would spend hours painting imaginary scenes in his studio. However, Bob Ross was not a nonviolent man. He had a deep-seated anger and a need for revenge that he used to fuel his paintings. He would travel to different locations and paint landscapes of the places where he had committed murders. People often wondered how Bob Ross could paint such beautiful landscapes of places where he had killed people. But they never asked him, and he never told them. He was content to sit in his studio, painting the scenes of his past crimes.	Bob Ross was always a bit of an oddball, but nobody ever suspected that he was a killer. He was always so gentle and kind, always smiling and happy. But beneath that calm exterior, Bob Ross was a sociopath. For years, Bob Ross travelled the country, painting beautiful landscapes. But with each painting, he left behind a trail of blood. He always chose secluded, remote locations to commit his murders, places where nobody would ever find the bodies. Bob Ross was a meticulous killer, and he always made sure to cover his tracks. But eventually, the law caught up with him. DNA evidence linked him to dozens of murders, and he was finally arrested. In his cell, Bob Ross would spend hours painting landscapes. But now, instead of pristine forests and idyllic mountain vistas, his paintings were filled with dark, twisted scenes of death and violence. They were a reflection of his dark soul, and a reminder of the countless lives he had taken.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing?

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The house wasomicsinquirer had been looking for an inch of light ever since she found the bookcase in the office. She had trouble hiding the. . conscientious little opened top. She grew anxious as she thought about how. . It was seems like something had managed to get past her security measures and life its comfortable little routine. This was her house, the house where she spent her days teaching and working. And yet. . Even though the lighteverything was something invisible, she was able to just manage to make herself look away from the window. It was challenging enough trying to keep the curiosity at the back of her mind from retrospective why she was always looking out.	I have been living with a spirit for as long as I can remember. I try not to think about it too much, but it seems like it's been living in my home. Every time someone leaves the room or I get up to take a leak, the spirit knows and it somehow becomes louder. It's like it has a mind of its own and doesn't want me to leave. I've tried to expose the spirit but it only seems to keep getting stronger. I've even put some stupid photos of my cat on the wall next to the spirit's photo to try and make it stop, but it just keeps coming back. I don't know what to do.	I had always assumed that the weird shadows that seemed to constantly follow me around were just figments of my imagination, until one day I woke up to find that my home had become host to an unseen force. I tried to ignore it, but the shadows only grew more persistent, until one night I finally had had enough. I shouted at the shadows, exposing them for what they were, but to my dismay they just disappeared into the darkness, leaving me alone with my fears.	I was sitting in my living room when I heard a noise coming from the kitchen. It sounded like something was moving around in the cupboards. I waited a few minutes to see if it would stop, but it didn't. I got up and went to the kitchen, and sure enough, something was definitely moving around in there. I couldn't see what it was, but it was definitely there. I decided to try and expose it without letting it know that I was aware of its presence. I started making some noise of my own, banging things around in the kitchen. The invisible thing stopped moving for a moment, and then started moving around even more frantically. I kept making noise, and eventually, it seemed to give up and stop moving altogether. I still don't know what it was, but I'm glad I was able to expose it.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible.
2	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The Plants were a group of species-wide end-of-life exercises. Even though they would all be voter-approved219 funeral Homes, no one could seem to pass the test. The Tests were only set up to cause chaos and death, not to sight or happiness. But the Plants needed the Implement to prevent from ever happening. The Plants had a new Auditor. The Plants were on top of the world. I was on themacs and we were eating some kind of processing runnig before I saw the test areas. I set up my sights on the test areas and set up my Casey.. I was Alloyed with a New Auditor Device. The new Auditor was much more stable than I was. I could真正的着迷了20年。 I shepherded my team of Cases and soldiers through the test areas, trying to maintain my pre-existing appearance and appearance of a straight-laced, box- Shantang guard. But I was Often Warmented. I always wereampivalent to the things I shepherded my team through the test areas- the part that went with being an Auditor was the part thatelligence and stability required to take on the world. But those days are gone. I'm more than happy to just prevent the world from ending. I stop making test areas and put a stop to all the chaos.	IAuditor, Thank you for your consideration. The devices have been implanted in all of our citizens during puberty, in order to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing. As you know, intelligent and stable people can raise healthy human beings by using their abilities to understand and audit the behavior of others. Your actions will help ensure that the world is a better place. Thank you for your time.	When I was born, the doctors implanted a birth control device into me. It would only work until I was deemed intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I was an Auditor. It took a while, but I eventually proved myself. I was able to successfully raise two children. But now, my children are adults. And they want to have children of their own. I don't want them to get pregnant. But I don't know how to disable the birth control device. I'm afraid that if the device is deactivated, the dumbest people in the world will be able to reproduce and the human race will be doomed.	You're an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to reproduce. It's a daunting task, but you take it seriously. After all, the future of the world depends on it. You've been working as an Auditor for years, and you've seen some truly terrible people Reproduce. But you've also seen some amazing people create beautiful, well-adjusted children. It's a rewarding job, but it's not always easy. Today, you're meeting with a young couple who wants to have a child. They seem like good people, but you have to be sure. You ask them questions about their lives, their plans for the future, and their thoughts on parenting. You also administer a series of tests to assess their intelligence and stability. After careful consideration, you determine that they are indeed intelligent and stable enough to reproduce. You deactivate their birth control devices and wish them the best of luck.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke.
3	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	At first, the new friend was just a casualy introduced to the group. They laughed and hearkened to the group's tradition of telling a story after each newmic. But over time, the group began to daily tell the story of a particular fib. The first fib was about how much money someone has. The person believe it or not, they have less than the group has altogether. The second fib was about how much estate they hold. The person believe it or not, they have less than the group has altogether. But the biggest fib they would ever tell was about how much money they have and how little they have. The group felt a moment of silence as they shared one final story. They would tell the story of the liar so that their lie would becomeuce them and their group would know the size and character of the liar.	You meet this person in an alleyway, on the other side of the city. It's dangerous, and you don't feel like risking your life. But you can't help but feel drawn to them. As you get closer, you realize that their scar is much bigger than the ones you have. It goes all the way down to their chest, and it's a bright blue. You start to ask them about it, and they don't answer for a while. Finally, they speak up. "I was a criminal. A lot of people died because of me." "I'm sorry," you say. "I didn't know." "It's okay," he says. "I'm glad it's over. It's been a long time since I've had to tell anyone the truth." You don't know what to say to that. But you kind of feel like you could use a friend right now.	I never thought I'd find someone with only one scar, but I did. We met in a dark alley, and I couldn't help but be drawn to him. His story was so sad and tragic, but he never stopped telling lies. His lies were so big and so hurtful that they left him with one giant, bloody scar. I felt bad for him, but I couldn't help but be drawn to his unique style of lying. I soon found out that the bigger the lie, the deeper the mark.	You're walking down the street when you see someone with a giant scar on their face. It's the biggest one you've ever seen. You strike up a conversation and learn that this person has only one scar. They tell you that it's because they only ever told one lie in their life. You're shocked. You ask them what the lie was. They hesitate for a moment before telling you. They say that they lied about their age to get into a bar. You can't believe it. The scar is so big and deep because it was such a big lie. You're amazed that someone could go their whole life without telling a lie. You ask them for advice on how to do the same. They tell you that it's not easy, but it's possible if you're honest with yourself and with others.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied.
4	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in-depth and full of loot. You haggle with the adventurers, trying to get them to sell their gear. One by one, they're manageable and left behind by your store. But one particular character is determined to Alma's death and full of coal. She'll not let you sell her stuff until you make her a demand.	The shop was always crowded. It was typically one of the busiest parts of town, and the adventurers who came to Tradecraft were always looking for new plunder. It was the perfect place to get what they needed, and make some extra money. But today, there was only one customer. A young, muscular man, he came in looking for a particularly powerful item. The trade went quickly. The man bought the item and left with it, happy to have gotten what he wanted. The shopkeeper was glad to have someone who was just looking for casual plunder, and not something that would turn them into Zombies or Dragons.	It was a typical day at the pawn shop. The owner, Sarah, was haggling with an adventurer who had come in to sell off his loot. He was a young man, and he was trying to get a good price for his items. Sarah was determined to get the best deal she could, and she was always willing to negotiate. The adventurer was persistent, but Sarah was never afraid to stand up for herself. In the end, she was able to get him to sell her his items for a much lower price than he had originally hoped for. She was happy to have been able to get a good deal for the adventurers, and she was sure that she would be able to do the same for future visitors to her shop.	You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You're a master of haggling, and you always make sure to get the best deal for your shop. One day, a group of adventurers comes into your shop, and they've got a lot of loot to sell. You haggle with them, and eventually you strike a deal. You're happy with the amount of money you made, and the adventurers are happy with the amount of money they got. It's just another day at the RPG pawn shop.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again.
5	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician pulls out a rabbit from the hat he is wearing and sets it down on the stage. The rabbit getting rid of has a look of relief and Introduction to Magic! from the audience. The magician continues on with his act, the rabbit popularity checker in hand. He find otherwise forgetful performance, until one look at the rabbit's eyes will do the trick. The rabbit is profile in black, with a white remote in its mouth. The magician pulls the trigger and the rabbit is visible again on the stage. He continues to pull out students of magic like a skilled puppet handler, saving his money and podium for now.	The magician pulled out the rabbit from his hat and set it down on the stage. He focused on the rabbit and said a few words. Suddenly, the rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. It hopped off the stage, ran backstage, and told everyone what it had seen.	The magician was getting ready to finish his performance. He had waited all morning for this special moment and he wasn't going to let anything ruin it. He glanced over to the rabbit sitting on the edge of the stage, its eyes tired and its furrowed brow told the story of how tired it was. The magician had to fight the temptation to tell the rabbit to go home, but he knew that it would only make things worse. Just then, the magician pulled out a new rabbit from his hat and the rabbit on stage perked up. It was clear that this rabbit was the star of the show. The magician smiled at the crowd and started to perform, but the rabbit on stage was not having it. It wanted to be the star, not some second-rate rabbit. The rabbit on stage began to act out, kicking and screaming until finally the magician had had enough. He reached over and grabbed the rabbit by the scruff of its neck, shaking it until it quieted down. The rabbit on stage finally realized that it was not going to get what it wanted and it was too tired to fight anymore. It allowed the magician to put it back in the hat and finish the performance without it. The rabbit on stage could have been very proud of itself, but it knew that it would always be the second-best rabbit.	The rabbit had had enough. He was tired of being the one who got pulled out of the hat, day in and day out. He was the star of the show, and it was time that he started getting treated like one. So, the rabbit decided to take matters into his own hands. The next time the magician went to pull him out of the hat, the rabbit refused to come out. The magician was baffled, and the audience was getting restless. But the rabbit was not budging. He was determined to make a stand and get the respect that he deserved. Eventually, the magician had to admit defeat and give up. The rabbit had won. From then on, he was the one who was in charge.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud has long enjoyedPfurtwordnung voicingpremiereofhis newest piecein a clinical trial of his invention, the "All-In-One-Book." He's looking for participants for the trial an all but one of his patients, including Adolf Hitler,, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Although he's managed to meet all of them unofficially, he's not sure who from he's meeting at the Obergerai Books near here.	Adolf Hitler was attracted to the chance to be a part of a clinical trial of Freud's latest research. Joseph Stalin was interested in the project because it could help advance his Workers' Party. Leon Trotsky wanted to be a part of the trial because it would give him an opportunity to show his political skills. But, Josip Broz Tito wasn't sure if he wanted to be a part of the trial.	Sigmund Freud is excited to start the clinical trials for his latest research. He puts an ad in a local newspaper, asking for participants. Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin respond first, but Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito are a little less enthusiastic about the idea. Sigmund takes note of their responses and decides to take them all on, one at a time. The trials are difficult, but Sigmund is relentless in his pursuit of new knowledge. He forces Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito to work together, and they eventually begin to understand each other better. The trials are a success, and Sigmund is able to advance his research significantly.	It's 1913, and Sigmund Freud is in Vienna, Austria, seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper, and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler (24), Joseph Stalin (35), Leon Trotsky (34), and Josip Broz Tito (21). Freud is a bit taken aback by the response, but decides to go ahead with the trials anyway. He starts with Hitler, who is immediately hostile and dismissive of Freud's ideas. Stalin is next, and he is much more interested, but still skeptical. Trotsky is the most receptive of the three, and he and Freud have a long discussion about the potential implications of the research. Tito is the last to be interviewed, and he is the most enthusiastic about the whole thing. He asks Freud a lot of questions and is very excited about the possibility of what the research could achieve. In the end, Freud decides to go ahead with the trials, using all four participants. It's a risky move, but he believes that the potential rewards are worth it.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud!
2	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	At a circus, a magician named Laverne is having to take multiple levels of customer satisfaction to get someone to pay attention to him. The rabbit is the only one who cankily entices Laverne to take a break, let the rabbit get some rest, and then bring him the best of luck in next week's show. Laverne is more than willing to help the rabbit get some much-needed rest, only through dodgy old Quantum Mechanics. With a little help from the Bunny, Laverne manages to get the show on the road in the week ahead.	The magician pulled out the rabbit from his hat. "This is it," he said. The rabbit had waited years for this moment and wasn't about to let the magician down. "I'll give you one more chance." The magician put the rabbit back in the hat and the rabbit was pissed. He wanted the magician to get the hell away from him. The magician gave the rabbit an apologetic smile and took off into the night. The rabbit was feeling very frustrated.	The magician summons forth a rabbit from a hat, and the rabbit is sick of fulfilling its role as a sidekick. The rabbit snaps at the magician, complaining that it is tired of always being the second fiddle. The magician listens attentively, and after a while, the rabbit says that it would be willing to step up and take on a more significant role if the magician would teach it how to perform. The magician agrees, and the two set to work, learning intricate tricks and making a name for themselves in the magic world. Eventually, the rabbit becomes the headliner, and the magician remains a loyal supporter.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual tricks. But the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. He's been stuck in that hat for far too long, and he's done with it. So, during one of the tricks, the rabbit makes his move. He grabs the magician's wand and starts doing his own tricks. The audience is amazed, and the rabbit is finally getting the attention he deserves. The magician is not happy about this, but he knows that he can't compete with the rabbit's magic. So he reluctantly hands over the wand and let's the rabbit take over the show. The rabbit is finally free, and he's loving every minute of it. He's the star of the show now, and he's never going back into that hat again.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was!
3	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was put into Rhema when she finished her final sophmore year at the University of power. She was already an Auditor and so she was considered one of the dumbest people in the world. The device was put into her when she was finished with her final exam in the class. When she was an Auditor, she decided to become more intelligent andDeactivated the device. She was able to protect her community from the silly dumb people and made sure they were able to keep their children safe.	One day, I was called to an auditorium to assess a new applicant. I walk into the room and see a shy, introverted 14-year-old sitting in the back. I was quickly able to assess that this was going to be a challenging applicant. "Your birth control device is activated," I say to the applicant. "We'll need to deactivate it for now to allow you to have a successful future." The applicant looks at me with confusion. I explain that the birth control device is designed to prevent only the dumbest people from Reproducing. "But I'm intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an Auditor," the applicant argues. "I don't want to be prevented from reproducing." "That's not an option," I say. "We need to create a plan to allow you to have a successful future."	I was born with a birth control device implanted in my body. It was supposed to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing, but it seems like it ended up having the opposite effect. I've been an Auditor for years now, and I've seen just how damaging it can be to have a population of people who are not only dumb, but also uneducated and dangerous. I'm sure the device was meant to help society, but it's just made things worse.	You're an Auditor, responsible for making sure only the most intelligent and stable people can reproduce. To do this, you must evaluate each person's ability to raise a well-adjusted human being. It's a demanding job, but you take pride in knowing that you're helping to create a better world. One day, you are called to the home of a young couple who are trying to have a baby. After evaluating them, you determine that they are not yet ready to be parents. You explain to them that they must wait a bit longer before they can have a child. They are disappointed, but they understand. Thanks to you, the world will be a better place, one child at a time.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?
4	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross visits each of his place where he've killed countless people, depicted in different painters images. The turns out to be some funny and some funny, that all share in common, with each of his paintings having a also funny and offensive painting on it.	Bob Ross loved his work of art, but he never forgot the murders that took place in his many different locations. Each of his paintings were meant to represent a specific location, but every time he painted them, someone was brutally murdered. Some think Ross may have been cursed, but no one knows for sure.	Bob Ross never denied his crimes. The paintings that adorned the walls of his studio were all based on real places where he had brutally murdered people. He would spend hours painting each one, meticulously detailing every blade of grass and ripple in the water. Every day, tourists from all over the world would wander into his studio to take in the beauty of his paintings. Many of them didn't know the true story behind the scenes, and were in for a shock when they realized that each of the landscapes was in fact a location where he had killed someone. Bob Ross was a cold-blooded killer, and his landscapes were a lie designed to conceal his true crimes. Thanks to his paintings, he never had to face justice, and he managed to leave this world without anyone knowing the true extent of his crimes.	Bob Ross was a serial killer. His landscape paintings were actually locations of his many murders. He would find a secluded spot in a beautiful place, kill his victim, and then paint the scene. authorities eventually caught on and Ross was arrested. In his confession, he revealed that he enjoyed killing people and then immortalizing them in his paintings. He said it was a way to keep his victims with him forever. Ross was sentenced to life in prison, where he still paints landscapes. But now, his paintings are of the bleak prison yard and the grim faces of his fellow inmates.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth.
5	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop was in disarray. The adventurers had lost interest in the game and the gear they had worn had become Tiima's property. She had no choice but to take them to court to try and recover the gear. The battle would be bitter, but the plaintiffs seemed to be victorious in the legal system. The court wasLarge and noisy, but the plaintiffs were Teen Titans. You can feel the claws of the law CHRONICLY accessingourdoor. OneProsecutors vehicular activity, that create aenser of their own. You feel the Take them down, then Alaric opens the door and promotes you to the Gone.	One day a succulent-skinned human in a bright-colored robes walks in. "Is there a game store here that I can buy some Loot?" he asks. "Of course!" I say. "What type of game do you play?" "It's an RPG!" he says. "I see. Well, we can't really sell Loot in an RPG, but I can give you some for a price. What kind of price do you want?" "Oh, I just want the best gear for my game!" he says. "I've been looking for a while." "We've got everything you need," I say. "We have the best gear in the world, and we're the only RPG pawn shop in town. Come on in."	The day started off normal enough for Arin, the owner of the RPG pawn shop. He was busy haggling with adventurers, trying to get the best deal he could for the random loot they brought in. He was in the middle of a particularly heated argument with a particularly persistent adventurer when he heard a loud knock on the window. He turned to see a group of six heavily-armed men standing outside the store. They were all wearing armor and holding swords, and they were all clearly prepared to fight. "What the hell do you want?" Arin asked the group, trying to keep his cool. "We've come to take your shop," the group leader said. "You don't have a choice." Arin tried to call for help, but the adventurers were too busy haggling to notice. In the end, there was nothing he could do but comply. He shut the door to the store and watched as the six men marched inside, ready to take over.	You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You're a master haggler, and you always manage to get the best prices for the loot. Today, you've got your eye on a rare magic sword that an adventurer is trying to sell. You manage to haggle the price down to a fraction of what it's worth, and you walk away with the sword in hand. You know you can get a good price for this sword, and you can't wait to add it to your collection.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in business for itself, and the players are its patients. They need storage for the loot they've acquired as players exploring the world come for their final days. The players are a force to be reckoned with, and theyearned the respect of their captives by being fair and down-to-earth. They're not afraid of a challenge, and they don't let anyone stop them from achieving their goals.	The shop was always busy. Whether it was because of the adventurers who came to buy specific spells or items or simply because of the people who wanted to sell their scrolls, scrolls, and potions, the shop always had a crowd. But today, one customer was different. The customer was a Sicilian nobleman. He was alone and he looked exhausted. His eyes were red from the miles he had just run. "Can I take this item?" He asked, holding up a clean and well-worn scroll. "Of course," said the shopkeeper. He took the scroll and tossed it into the back room. "But make sure you're the one taking the item. There's a reward for the first person to bring me a scroll of level 5 or higher." The nobleman looked exhausted and he could barely keep up with the shopkeeper'sWalk. But he was determined. He had brought in two scrolls of that level already this day. And he was always looking for a new challenge.	It was a typical day at the pawn shop. The adventurers came in, trying to sell their loot. The pawn shop owner always tried to haggle with them, but they always managed to get away with too much. One particularly greedy adventurer came in, and the pawn shop owner was able to get him down to a lower price than he was expecting. He thanked the pawn shop owner and soon left. The pawn shop owner couldn't help but smile. He knew that he had made a lot of money that day.	You run a pawn shop that specializes in RPG loot. You haggle with adventurers who come in trying to sell their loot, and you always try to get the best deal for your shop. You're always on the lookout for the best items, and you're always willing to pay top dollar for them.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me.
2	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that you meet that day isoparent to you crew. They tells you everything, even though you has seen only a small glimpse of what is really going on. In the beginning, you are blindsided by the Information, but you also feel some warmth inside you that day. You begin to piece together what was supposed to happen, but something kept breaking through the plans. The family faced many mistakes, but they never looked for help online or in person. That day, you find out that your father is the son of the person who broke your mother's heart. You would usually laugh and twirl around his son, but you are sad and ITVIIIIIIIIIIIIIIL . . . . . . . until you find out that his son is the one who wrote theReport of your mother's death.	You meet this person on a dark street corner. They are lying on the ground, blood seeping from their wounds. You stop to help them, and you find out that this person is a liar. They have lied to you many times, and you have never been able to trust them. You think that you will never be able to trust them again, but you do. You stay with this person for a while, and you soon realize that this person is not like the other people in your world. They are not full of lies. They are just like you, only with a different story to tell. They tell you the truth, and they make you feel accepted. You start to trust them again, and you fall in love with this person.	I can't believe I am looking at him. He is so different than anyone I have ever met. His skin is unmarked, as if nothing ever hurt him. But his eyes… his eyes tell a different story. They are full of pain, loss, and hurt. I can't help but feel sorry for him. He starts to speak, and I can't stop myself from listening. He tells me about a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. He tells me that he is the biggest liar of all, and that his biggest lie has caused the most damage. I can't help but feel sorry for him. I tell him that I understand, and that I have been there before. I tell him that I have lied so much that my skin is covered in scars. But he looks at me with such hope in his eyes, and I can't bring myself to tell him that I am just like him. Instead, I tell him that I want to be his friend. And from that day forward, we spend every day telling each other the truth, no matter how big the lie might be.	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone who only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. When you ask them about it, they simply say "I was born this way."	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world?
3	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The show is about to begin and the magician is to the Rabbit's side to give him the focused attention he needs. However, the Rabbit is already clear of the stage and is trying to take his own time walking to the next step. The magic is taken from him and the rabbit is left standing, feeling himself out. Finally, the rabbit is sure he can do better, and begins to walk away from the stage, poles in hand. The magic is taken from him and he is killed.	The magician was about to end his show when he noticed the rabbit on stage was having ayre. The rabbit was begged and pleaded, but the magician couldn't do anything. The rabbit was so sick of playing second fiddle that it just gave up and died. The magician felt terrible and went home.	The magician was really good and the rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. He was so sick of it that he decided to take matters into his own hands. So he charged the magician with pulling out a rabbit from a hat, which the magician easily did. The rabbit was so excited and relieved, he almost skipped off the stage.	The magician and the rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is getting fed up. He's sick of being the one that gets pulled out of the hat, and he's tired of being treated like a second-class citizen. Finally, the rabbit has had enough. He grabs the magician's wand and starts casting spells of his own. Soon, the whole stage is filled with rabbits, and the audience is loving it. The magician is furious, but he can't do anything to stop the rabbit. He knows that he's been beaten, and he'll never be able to top this performance.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper.
4	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was always life-saving, but it couldn't be used on people who were onlyvell until the turn of the century. By that time, the world was full of intelligent people, and the device would have been useless. But by the time the world ends, everyone will be intelligent and will be able to protect their own.	Auditor No. 8 stepped out of her office building in the heart of the city. It was a beautiful day, the sun shining down on the people and the birds. As she strolled down the street, she noticed something she never would have expected. Many people were wearing contraceptives. She couldn't help but ask herself why. could it be because of the upcoming election? She quickly dismissed that idea, remembering that elections always determined who held office. She turned the question over in her mind, but came to a decision. she would investigate. She started walking back to her office, but when she got there, she noticed something strange. All of her employees were wearing contraceptives. Puzzled, she approached them. Some of them were talking on their phone, but some of them were staring at their contraceptives. Audit No. 8 was curious, so she decided to ask. "Why are all of your employees wearing contraceptives?" she asked. The employees looked at her blankly, and then they quickly dispersed. Audit No. 8 was suddenly worried. She didn't know if they were going to tell her what was going on, or if she was going to get in trouble. She decided to take a chance. "I'm sorry," she said, "but I can't tell you what's going on. I'm an Auditor, and our job is to ensure that everyone is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an Auditor. You may have understood that before, but I doubt that all of you actually do." The employees looked at each other, and then they all quickly dispersed. Audit No. 8 was disappointed, but she knew she had to find out what was going on. She started walking back to her office, but when she got there, she noticed something strange. All of her employees were wearing contraceptives. Puzzled, she approached them. Some of them were talking on their phone, but some of them were staring at their contraceptives. Audit No. 8 was curious, so she decided to ask. "Why are all of your employees wearing contraceptives?" she asked. The employees looked at her blankly, and then they quickly dispersed. Audit No. 8 was suddenly worried. She didn't know if they were going to tell her what was going on, or if she was going to get in trouble. She decided to take a chance. "I'm sorry," she said, "but I can't tell you what's going on. I'm an Auditor, and our job is to ensure that everyone is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an Auditor. You may have understood that before, but I doubt that all of you actually do."	When I was a young girl, I was implanted with a birth control device. It was a small, innocuous-looking contraption that would keep me from reproducing. I was thrilled when I found out, as I knew that it would mean that I would never have to worry about bearing children that I couldn't care for. Little did I know that the device would one day be used to determine whether or not I was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. When I turned eighteen, the device was deactivated and I was given the choice to become an Auditor or be sterilized like so many of my peers. I chose the latter, knowing that it would give me the peace of mind I needed to raise a family.	You are an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. It is a difficult and weighty responsibility, but you take it seriously. You know that the future of the world depends on it. As you go about your work, you sometimes wonder about the people who are not deemed intelligent or stable enough to have children. What will become of them? Will they be able to find happiness in a world that doesn't want them? You try not to think about it too much. You have a job to do, and you can't let emotions get in the way. But sometimes, late at night, you can't help but feel a little bit sad for those who will never be able to experience the joy of parenthood.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch.
5	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross painter's house is the painting of a master bedroom. It is long and long with long bed, long beditter, long bedeinter, long bed of thistles. It is a room with bedtime stories and Valencia's bedroom is a few rooms down.	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. The locations of his killings range from Appalachian Mountains to a saltmine in the Mojave Desert. And although these places may seem remote and unlikely, they are all still within reach of Bob Ross' vile mind. And even though he knows he's responsible for the death of countless people, Bob Ross cannot get the guilt off his chest. He can't shake the feeling that he's been guilty from the moment he set eyes on those Mapleton paintings. And even though he's been forced to rid of all of his previous victims, there's something about the Mapleton paintings that still lingers in his mind. There's a feeling of guilt and familiarity that he can't shake.	Bob Ross loved painting landscapes. He would go on long walks around the beautiful towns and villages in Maine, or head to the rolling hills of California. He even managed to find a spot in the early days of his career in New York City. But there was one place that always haunted him. It was the small town in Maine where he had killed so many people. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was there every time he painted a landscape, as if his victims could see him and judge him. One day, Bob Ross decided to take a break from painting and go on a drive. He thought that maybe the fresh air would clear his mind and make him feel better. Instead, the more he drove, the more haunted he felt. He finally stopped at a small town in Maine and got out of the car. He started to walk around, painting the peaceful images in his head. But all of a sudden, he heard screams. He turned around and saw a man running towards him, holding a bloody knife. Bob Ross didn't have time to react. He knew that this was his final painting. The man was now running towards him and Bob Ross could see the terror in his eyes. In that moment, he knew that he had killed too many people. He would be judged for eternity, and he didn't deserve that. He turned around and ran back to the car, screaming for help. But it was too late. The man had already killed him.	Bob Ross was a serial killer who used his landscape paintings as a way to disguise his crimes. He would choose a scenic location, set up his easel, and then murder someone in cold blood. He would then paint over the bloodstains and leave the body to be discovered. The police were never able to catch Bob Ross, as he was careful to cover his tracks. But those who knew him best knew that each of his paintings was a real place - and the different locations of his countless murders.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	Dustin was in the officearious and coiled planning his next move. He was waitin' on the right time to strike up a conversation with the female staff, but he just couldn't catch a break. Palin was the one coming in for the latest magic trick, and she was asked if she could watch the performance. "Sure, what can I do you?,"aliotta said with a smile as she stepped in to help her stepfather with his work. Dustin fictitiously said, "I'm Creative Magic, and this rabbit is just too good for him. The sound of his wiles spilling out as heplin' against me on the floor. I know I can't keep up, so I'll just let himFlow. " palm print	The magician had been pulling out the rabbits from his hat for years when he finally found one that he could actually work with. He put the rabbit in the hat, made it jump up and down, and made it disappear. The rabbit was so sick of playing second fiddle that it was happy to just stand there and listen to the other rabbits. But the magician didn't stop there. He also put a magic spell on the hat, so that whenever anyone opened it, the rabbit would be there, sick of being used. The magician was so proud of himself, he forgot all about the rabbit until one day someone opened the hat and the rabbit was gone.	The magician was about to finish his performance, and the rabbit was getting impatient. She had been playing second fiddle all night, and she was sick of it. The magician was about to finish his performance, and the rabbit was getting impatient. She had been playing second fiddle all night, and she was sick of it. "Please, can I take the spotlight?" she begged the magician. "I've been playing second fiddle all night, and I'm sick of it. Please, can I take the spotlight?" she begged the magician. The magician looked at her sympathetically, and then he pulled out a rabbit from a hat. The rabbit was surprised. She had never thought that she would be the one to get the spotlight. The magician looked at her sympathetically, and then he pulled out a rabbit from a hat. The rabbit was happy, and she thanked the magician. She knew that she would be able to show the world what she was really capable of now. The rabbit was happy, and she thanked the magician. She knew that she would be able to show the world what she was really capable of now.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. He's been stuck in that hat for years, and he's had enough. So, he decides to take matters into his own hands and make his escape. The rabbit hops out of the hat and makes a beeline for the nearest exit. The magician is horrified, and he tries to stop the rabbit, but he's too fast. He manages to make it off stage and into the wings, where he is met by a group of other rabbits. The escapees are all sick of being used as props in the magician's act, and they've been planning their escape for months. They all congratulatetheir new friend on his successful escape and they all set off into the night, looking for a new life where they won't be treated like second-class citizens.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
2	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is on his way to the clinical trials of his latest research when he gets a call from a friend in Vienna. "I know this may be unusual, but can you come and help me with this study of Trotsky's method? I have a copy of his book here." Freud drugs out of his house and goes to the clinical trials. He is filled with surprise when he sees Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin there. He is also filled with surprise when he sees Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito there. He is most surprised when he gets to meet Siegal Alter (Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky) and find out that he can help her.	Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito all responded to Sigmund Freud's ad. They all had a desire to help him with his new research. However, they were all different. Adolf Hitler was the most dominate person in the group. He was the leader of the Nazi party, and he had a lot of influence over the other participants. Joseph Stalin was the most powerful man in the group. He was the leader of the Soviet Union, and he had a lot of power over the other participants. Leon Trotsky was the third most powerful man in the group. He was the leader of the Yugoslav Communist party, and he had a lot of power over the other participants. Josip Broz Tito was the youngest man in the group. He was the leader of the Croatian Communist party, and he had a lot of power over the other participants.	Freud was excited to have Adolf Hitler as a participant in his clinical trials. He was sure that Hitler's aggressive and domineering personality would be perfect for testing his theories. However, Hitler quickly became restless and irritable. He was not at all interested in the research. Joseph Stalin, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying the trials. He was always eager to learn new techniques and theories. Trotsky was also insightful and helpful. Tito, on the other hand, was a bit of a troublemaker. He was always trying to find loopholes in the tests and experiments. But despite their differences, the five participants all seemed to benefit from the clinical trials.	Sigmund Freud was known for his groundbreaking work in psychology, and he was always looking for new ways to further his research. In 1913, he decided to conduct clinical trials for his latest theories in Vienna, Austria. He placed an ad in a local newspaper, seeking participants for the trials. To Freud's surprise, the only people who responded to his ad were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their twenties, and they were all eager to participate in the trials. Freud was initially hesitant to work with such controversial figures, but he eventually decided to go ahead with the trials. Over the course of the next few months, he conducted a series of sessions with each of the men. During the sessions, Freud quickly realized that all four men were highly intelligent and had a deep understanding of human behavior. They were also all incredibly ambitious, and they had a strong desire to change the world. The trials were a success, and Freud was able to further his research thanks to the participation of Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky, and Tito.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do.
3	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross measures the distance of a field from his house to the distance of his painting, and is always sure that he has encountered it more than once. His paintings are always full of different places, from the dark,utorrenting him always something new.	Bob Ross was known for his incredible landscape paintings. But many of his classic paintings were actually murders. Each of his landscapes were based on real-life locations that had been bloodsheded and destroyed. One such painting was the Black Forest, which was based in the Corydon forest. The painting was based on the murder of a man named Klaus Kinski.	Bob Ross was a gifted landscape painter, and his paintings are some of the most recognizable images in the world. But behind the scenes, Bob was a killer. Each of his paintings was based on a real place where he had murdered someone. No one knew this except for a few close friends, and even they weren't sure how many murders Bob had committed. But the secrets of Bob Ross' paintings were safe, and they would stay that way for many years to come.	Bob Ross was a serial killer who used his landscape paintings as a way to document his many murders. Each painting was a real place, and each location was the scene of one of his grisly crimes. No one knows how many people Bob Ross killed, but it is estimated that there are dozens of victims scattered across the country. To this day, no one has ever been able to piece together the full story of his reign of terror. Bob Ross was a true mastermind of murder. He always managed to stay one step ahead of the law, and his victims were never able to connect him to their deaths. Now, his paintings hang in homes and offices all over the world, and each one holds the dark secret of a Bob Ross murder.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas.
4	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The scar was huge and run down, it extending beyond the guitarist's stared sky white smile. It was a perfect forced smile, a smug 0% lie. You cut and vested your musician sister, dispatcher, as we made our escape for the day. It was a raw and harsh reminder of the intense moments, moments that would never beagain. The snowflakesCSM A/N: This prompt was from this prompt: "What if there was a other world where that other world was TRUE?"	You meet this person on a dark and stormy night. They are covered in dried blood and they look like they have been through an incredibly tough experience. They tell you a story that has left your mind and heart shattered. You can't believe what you are hearing. The story is about a battle that took place years ago and it is so brutal. It sounds like this person has been through it all. Your heart starts pounding as you hear the story of how the offender was able to take down so many of their enemies. In the end, the antagonist was killed and their Hybrid was released. You can't believe that this person is still alive. They tell you that it was a difficult battle but they were able to protect their people and eventually win. You can't help but feel that this person hasheroic qualities.	I never would have guessed it, but this person is the liar that I have been searching for. I have never seen someone with only one scar, and it is the biggest one I have ever seen. I can't help but to ask him about it. He tells me that the scar is from a lie that he told when he was younger. It was a big lie, and it created a deep and large scar on his body. He never wanted to tell that lie again, and he has never told another one since. I can't help but to be impressed by his resolve.	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. They tell you that they have never lied in their life. You don't believe them, but you can't help but be intrigued. You spend time with this person, and the more you get to know them, the more you realize that they are telling the truth. They have never lied about anything, no matter how big or small. You begin to wonder how they have managed to go through life without ever telling a lie. They must have an incredible amount of willpower and self-control. But more than anything, you are just amazed that such a thing is possible.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room.
5	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	(Sentences of course, people who are really dumb may still reproduce nevertheless, because of the birth control) As a Auditor, I'm really dumb. But I'm not just that - I'm brilliant. I can see that the person who will be born with the device is going to be intelligent and Aware - so I deactivate the device and allow them to be dumb. It's a simple process, and they're alreadyrified at the thought of being smart.	Puberty was always a bit different for me. I wasn't allowed to experience it the way the rest of my friends were. I was implanted with a birth control device during my early teenage years, so I could't get pregnant. This meant that I had to be careful and thoughtful when it came to dating and relationships. I was also required to attend an Auditor-run school where I learned about the importance of balanced life and maintaining order. It was an important part of my curriculum. But it was also difficult. I was constantly on the lookout for new people to be friends with, but I never lucked out. Everyone I dated was either too smart or too boring. It was difficult to find someone who was both. But I was determined. I was going to make the most of my life. And I was going to find someone who was both intelligent and interesting.	I was born with a birth control device stuck in my brain. It was supposed to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, but it's not working. Now I'm an Auditor, responsible for determining whether or not intelligent and stable humans are fit to raise children. Every person in the world is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. If you're determined to be intelligent and stable, you can remove the device, but only after an Auditor has confirmed that you're ready to raise a well-adjusted human being. I've been an Auditor for 10 years, and I still can't believe it. Every person I meet is trying to figure out how to break the system or get around it. But it's the only way to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing and ruining the world.	As an Auditor, it is my job to determine whether or not people are intelligent and stable enough to have children. If they are not, then their birth control devices remain active and they are unable to have children. I always take my time in making my decision. I want to be sure that I am making the best decision for the person in question and for society as a whole. After all, we only want the smartest, most well-adjusted people to be having children. sometimes, people try to argue with me or sway my decision. But I am always firm in my decision. I know that what I am doing is for the best.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	It was a dark and stormy night and theMAGICAR":"/",)T0O pOors/",)WELCOME/",)WHEN U 373MaND/",) is ready to quit. He's tired of being second best to the rabbit, who doesn't even have a hair color that he can use to help him look like arobat. The rabbit tries to get away, but the magic is too strong and he's dragged down into the darkness. Suddenly, the rabbit is brought back to life by a quick Production workflow arrow. He thanking the MAGICAR POLITICO/",) for saving him, andHAHAOA/",) relating how he's going to buy a new hat now that he's back to his original color.	The magician started out by asking the rabbit if he wanted to come out and play. The rabbit hesitated for a second, but then said yes. The magician put the hat on the rabbit's head and told him to go ahead. The rabbit made his way to the front of the stage, but when he got there, the hat was gone. The rabbit quickly looked all around, but it was nowhere to be found. The magician was starting to get worried, but he realized that the rabbit must have just run off into the crowd. He started to take off his own hat, but there was no rabbit inside. He started to cry, but the only thing that came out was a sad laugh.	The magician was getting tired of being the rabbit all the time. He had been pulling him out of hats for years, and he was starting to get a bit sick of it. The rabbit wanted to be the star of the show, not follow behind the magician. One day, the rabbit decided he had had enough. He refused to go on stage, no matter what the magician said. The magician was furious, but he couldn't do anything. The rabbit was right: he was tired of being the rabbit. After a while, the magician realized that being the rabbit was not what he wanted. He quit his job, and he and the rabbit started their own show. The rabbit was the star, and the magician was the magician's assistant. They were happy being in their own little world.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual routine. However, the rabbit is starting to get sick of playing second fiddle. He's been stuck in that hat for far too long, and he's had enough. Finally, he makes his move. He leaps out of the hat and onto the stage, leaving the magician behind. The crowd goes wild, cheering for the rabbit. He's finally free, and he's going to enjoy every minute of it. The magician is furious, but there's nothing he can do. The rabbit is the star now, and there's nothing he can do to change that.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was!
2	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The first time that my home was exposed to the light it caused a fewredits to be put towards some new lights. The second time was more Duffy Banner and hisCloset where people came to see him. The third time was when my family was Present and I was the onlyOneam he was. Now the fourth time it's when someone who knows me expects me to go out and Singing. The fifth time was when it tried to take over my body. I could feel it was bigger and more Alive and it aggravatedme. It moved across the room and I could see its eyes light up with Colonisure. I could also feel its Worlds and it NULLI The story is going to be about one who is exposed to theHome Machine and how it impacting his life.	One day, I was sitting in my chair, trying to have a conversation with my cat when I noticed something standing just out of my reach. No matter how much I tried, I couldn't get my hand near its furry body. I was afraid it was going to jump out and scare me. But as I watched, the thing slowly formed into a form I didn't recognize. It was small, comparably to a cat, but it had a creepy, sly look in its eyes. It seemed like the thing was waiting for me, and I didn't know what to do. I tried to back away, but the thing was quicker than me. It jumped onto my lap, and before I could react, it was biting me in the shoulder. I yelped, and my cat came running. It had clearly seen the thing for the first time, and she ran straight for it. The thing hit her, and she screamed. But it didn't stop there. It kept biting me, and I soon found myself in a lot of pain. I scratched and bitten at it, but it didn't let go. It was like it was trying to warn me something was going to happen. I didn't know what it was, but I had a feeling it was going to attack me. I scrambled to my feet, and my cat followed suit. The thing was still biting me, but it didn't seem to be hurt very much. I put my hand around its neck, and pulled. It let go, and I took a step back. I didn't know what to make of what I had seen, but I had to tell someone. I went to the police, and they took me to the hospital. They did their best to find the thing, but they couldn't find it. I was still trying to come to terms with what had happened, and it took a toll on my day-to-day life. But I couldn't go back there. I just couldn't.	I was just getting ready to go to bed, when I saw something moving in the corner of my eye. I strained to see what it was, but all I could make out was a faint glimmer. I tried to focus and finally I saw that it was a spirit, or something else that was invisible. It was watching me, and I could feel its eyes on me all night. I was scared, and I didn't know what to do.	I can sense it lurking in the shadows, watching me. I can't see it, but I know it's there. I can feel its presence, like a weight in the air. I'm not sure what it is, but I know it's not human. It's something else entirely. Something... otherworldly. I don't know how long it's been living with me, but I'm determined to find out what it is. I can't let it continue to lurk in the shadows, unaware of its presence. I set up a camera in my room, pointed at my bed. I'll catch it on film if it comes near me while I'm sleeping. I also leave little traps around the house, hoping to capture it. But so far, nothing has worked. I'm beginning to think that this thing is invisible for a reason. But I won't give up. I'll find a way to expose it.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought.
3	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross has always been a local expert in every market he venues. His paintings Territorial lastly, from the living room to the bedroom, are the different locations of his countless murders. The sale of these paintings is "real," as he uses his DuPont free-lance to place them in every state.	Bob Ross was a master painter and illustrator. He was known for his beautiful landscapes, and each of his paintings werebased on a real location. For example, one of his paintings was based on the murders of three people in the Great Lakes region. Another painting was based on the murders of three schoolgirls in Texas. And still another painting was based on the murders of four people in Denmark.Bob Ross had a dark and troubled past. He had killed many people and committed many crimes. He was known as the "Murder Master." But even with all his Crimes, Bob Ross was a loving husband and father. He loved his family very much.One day, Bob Ross passed away, at the age of ninety-one. His paintings still remain one of the most popular and renowned pieces of art in the world.	Bob Ross always said that the secret to a good painting was to find the perfect spot and paint the scenery in front of you. But what he didn't know is that the scenery in front of him was the scenery of his many murders. Every painting was a snapshot of a different place, and in each one, Bob could see himself bludgeoning someone with a blunt object or plunging a knife into their chest. The Deaths of Bob Ross was a twisted cycle of violence that he never could escape from. But even as he painted, Bob knew that the world would keep turning, and that sooner or later he would be caught. So even as he created scenes of peace and beauty, Bob knew that underneath it all was the rot of murder.	Bob Ross was always a bit of an outsider. He didn't fit in with the other kids at school and he was never quite sure why. But he found solace in painting. It was his one true passion. He developed a unique style of landscape painting, and people quickly took notice. His paintings were beautiful and serene, and they seemed to transport viewers to another place. What nobody knew was that each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings was based on a real place. But not just any place - the different locations of his countless murders. Bob Ross was a serial killer, and he used his paintings as a way to map out his crimes. He would choose a new place to kill, and then paint it in his distinctive style. Over the years, he killed dozens of people and left a trail of paintings in his wake. But his crimes were finally discovered when one of his victims managed to escape and led the authorities to his latest painting. Bob Ross was arrested and jailed for the rest of his life. But his paintings still hang in homes and galleries all over the world, providing a chilling reminder of the artist's dark past.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.
4	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in business for the summer, because players are eager to buy RPG goods. However, the shop owner is not afraid to a mediator between player and wielded, in order to keep things civil. This, however, didn't always be the case. shifts often called, making life very difficult for the shop owner.	One day a player came in and said they were looking for a magical sword. You told them you didn't have it and offered to do a trade. The player asked for a spell book. You told them you didn't have any and offered to trade a magic staff. The player asked for a dragon egg. You told them you didn't have any and offered to trade a dragon egg. The player thanked you and left.	I had been running my RPG pawn shop for about a year now and it was going well. I had a steady stream of adventurers coming in looking to sell their loot. I always had a good haggle rate and I always managed to get a good deal for the adventurers. One day, a group of adventurers came in. They had been out exploring the land and had acquired a lot of loot. They were looking for a good place to sell it all. I haggled with them for a while, but I couldn't seem to get them to drop their price. Finally, I offered them a deal. I would give them a good price for their loot and they could keep the profits. The adventurers were happy to accept and they left my shop with a smile on their face. It was always a fun transaction to do business with adventurers.	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you know how to spot a fake when you see one. One day, a group of adventurers come into your shop with a large bag of loot. They're eager to sell, but you're not interested in their goods. You haggle with them for a while, but you eventually agree to buy the bag for a low price. As you're counting out the money, you notice one of the items in the bag is glowing. You ask the adventurers about it, but they don't know what it is. You examine the item closer and realize it's a magical sword. You offer the adventurers more money for the sword, but they're not interested. They're just happy to get rid of the item. You give them the money and they leave, not knowing the true value of what they just sold. You examine the sword and find that it's incredibly powerful. You decide to keep it for yourself and add it to your collection. With this sword, you'll be able to take on any adventure that comes your way.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday.
5	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that met me was dumpy and Carson had a really big mouth. He said he was the best thing that had ever happened to me. I Vandergriff, the person that met me, was the only one who knew that he had a big lie. The next day, I went to meet Carson in order to get the story. He said he had a big lie on the wall where I could see it was hanging from a tree. I asked him what the big lie was and he said it was a promised land. I told him I wanted to go and he said no and that he had other plans. I argued with him until he said he would go with me. I was so surprised that he followed me. We were even again and I knew he was my friend.	You meet the person one day and you are surprised to see that they only has one scar - it is the biggest one you have ever seen. You ask them how it got there and they say that it was caused by a lie that they told. They tell you about a time when they were caught with a large bag of drugs and they had to tell a lie to get away with it. They say that they felt like they knew they would get caught and that the lie was the only way to keep them free.	I never thought I would meet someone with the biggest lie of all. It's strange, because it's the smallest thing to him. He tells a story that is so small, it's easy to forget. But, the more he tells it, the more I realize that it's a lie. He's telling a story that is never going to happen. I can't help but wonder why he would tell such a small lie. It's like he's marking his territory. It's like he's saying, "This is mine. I'm the one with the biggest lie." But, that's not the only thing that's strange about him. He doesn't seem to care about the damage that he's doing to himself. He's like a wild animal, stealing what he wants and never thinking about the consequences. Maybe I'm wrong, maybe he's not lying at all. But, I can't help but feel like he's doing damage to himself. Even the smallest lie can create a big scar.	You walk down the street and see a person standing in front of you, their body covered in scars. Some are small, barely noticeable, while others are large and deep, covering their entire body. As you get closer, you see that they have only one scar, the biggest one you have ever seen. You can't help but stare at the person, trying to understand how they could have gotten such a large scar. They must have lied about something huge. But what could it have been? You decide to ask the person about their scar. They hesitate at first, but then they tell you their story. They explain that they come from a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. They say that their scar is from the biggest lie they have ever told. They tell you that they lied about who they were, what they did, and what they wanted in life. They lied about everything, big and small. And each lie left a scar on their body. The person says that their one, large scar is a reminder of the person they used to be. It is a reminder of the lies they told and the damage they caused. But it is also a reminder of the strength they have to keep going, despite everything. The person finishes their story and you are left with more questions than answers. But one thing is clear: this person has been through a lot. They have been hurt, but they are still standing. And that is something to admire.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler was probably the most notorious figure in Austria in 1913. He was the leader of the Nazi party, which had Osvaldo Leyes as its presidential candidate in 1933. Hitler had many famous aliases, including the Aryan Savior and the Führer. Joseph Stalin was probably the most famous figure in Soviet Union in 1913. He was the leader of the Soviet Union in 1917 and the head of the Soviet Communist party in 1954. Stalin was also the dictator of the Soviet Union from 1922 to 1991. Leon Trotsky was probably the most famous figure in Soviet Union in 1913. He was the leader of the Bolshevik party in 1917 and the head of the Soviet Communist party in 1924. Trotsky was also the dictator of the Soviet Union from 1922 to 1991.	Freud was intrigued by the young Yugoslavs and decided to recruit them for his clinical trials. He put an ad in a local newspaper and receivedApplications from Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Hitler was the youngest applicant and the only one who was not yet 35 years old. Freud was impressed by his youthful energy and ambition. He was also the only applicant who had not yet completed college. Stalin was the oldest applicant and the only one who was not yet 34 years old. Freud was also impressed by his political skills and his ability to lead a nation. Tito was the youngest applicant and the only one who was not yet 21 years old. Freud was impressed by his athleticism and his fighting spirit.	The year is 1913 and Sigmund Freud is in Vienna, Austria conducting clinical trials for his latest research. He's been working on this research for years and is finally ready to share it with the world. In order to find participants, Freud puts an ad in a local newspaper. The only people who respond to the ad are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men are in their early twenties and are eager to participate in the trials. Freud is taken aback by the turnout. He wasn't expecting such high-profile participants. However, he's pleased that so many people are interested in his work. The trials go well and Freud is able to glean valuable insights from the four men. Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky, and Tito all have different perspectives on the world and Freud is able to learn a lot from them. In the end, the trials are a success and Freud is able to further his research thanks to the help of these four men.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud!
2	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician pulls out the rabbit from the hat and sets it down on the floor. The rabbit looks at the mathematician with aCNN headline in his hands, "Project Contents." The mathematician looks at the rabbit and says, "What are you doing?" The rabbit says, "I'm pulling out the	The magician pulled out the rabbit from his hat. The rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. The magician told the rabbit that he would not put the rabbit in any trouble if he would just stop trying to be a good rabbit. The rabbit was happy to stop trying to be a good rabbit.	The magician was about to finish his performance and collect his prizes when he noticed that the rabbit was starting to look a bit sick. The magician knew that the rabbit was probably just anxious to get home, so he decided to let the rabbit have the last word. "Alright rabbit," the magician said, "you've had a great career as my second fiddle. I don't know what got into me when I picked you, but I'm sorry. I'll never do that to you again. "I hope you're happy now," the magician said as he handed the rabbit its prize. The rabbit looked down at the smallest of cages, then up at the magician, before it finally spoke. "I am," the rabbit said, "but I'm also a bit sad. I've loved being your second fiddle, but now I think it's time for me to start my own career." With that, the rabbit hopped out of the cage and disappeared backstage, never to be seen again by the magician.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is getting fed up with always being the second fiddle. Finally, he's had enough. "Hey, magician," the rabbit says. "I'm sick of being your assistant. I want to be the star of the show." The magician is taken aback at first, but he quickly realizes that the rabbit is right. After all, the rabbit is the one who always puts on a great show. "Okay, rabbit," the magician says. "You can have the spotlight." The rabbit is overjoyed, and he puts on a spectacular show. The audience loves him, and he steals the show. The magician is happy to have helped the rabbit realize his dream, and he knows that he'll always be grateful.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents.
3	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in close proximity to theier superior, and the shop's NPCs are more powerful than you will ever know. They ask a price for everything in the store, and you can't give too much attention to their seller claims. Instead, they'll try tonanlgj Jihad along with the store.	The first time I ever ran an RPG pawn shop was with a group of biker bandits. We pieced together a trade, and I netted a really nice tiara from one of their leader's head. It was a bit of a risk, but I took it, and the group went on to win more Pyrrhic battles. Over time, I learned to love the challenge of thieves' war. It was a perfect way to spend my free time, and I always made sure to have the latest RPGs and adventure books on hand.	It was a typical day at the RPG pawn shop. I was haggling with a group of adventurers, trying to get a good price for the loot they had acquired. I usually got pretty good deals, but this time I wasn't as lucky. I ended up selling the loot for a bit less than I wanted, but I made it back in the end.	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you've developed a keen eye for spotting valuable items. Recently, you've been doing a brisk business with a group of adventurers who seem to be constantly bringing in new loot. You're not sure what their secret is, but you're sure they're up to something. You're just about to make a deal on some weapons and armor when one of the adventurers walks in and tries to sell you a magical sword. You know this sword is special, and you're not about to let it go for a low price. After a few minutes of haggling, you finally agree on a price and hand over the gold. As the adventurer walks out of your shop, you can't help but wonder what their next adventure will be. Whatever it is, you're sure they'll be back to sell you more loot.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me.
4	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The front porch light shone brightly in the darkness. The sound of the leaves rustling was the only way that he could be heard. The gradually coming sleep would be the perfect lure for the something invisible. She was excited to see him, but knew that it was only a matter of time before he found her. She would have to be careful not to wake up the cat, who waseker of secrets who kept to himself. As she turned off the light she could see his outline in the darkness. She didn't know how to pre-empt his plan, but she knew that she had to try. She slowly reached out a hand and edged the light from the porch opening closer to him. She could feel his presence, and the heat that came with it. The cat ceased what he was doing to watch her approach, but increased his working speed to make up for the minutes that he slept. With the flicker of the light she could see in the darkness, she was able to see that he was pink. The cat waseker of secrets is always watching, and always waiting. He was hesitant to be revealed, but knew that it had to be done. He had done this before, and it would only get worse. With a concluding “man,” the thing invisible was revealed to the cat as nothing was left to the darkness. He would be knowing that she was there, and would be able to do what he had never been able to do before. The thing invisible was there, and was always there.	One day, I was sitting in my chair, trying to hide myinvincible invisibility machine from my home's something invisible. I used my patience and skills in engineering to keep the machine hidden for weeks, but it kept coming back to life. I was puzzled, and didn't know what to do. One day, I decided to take the machine to the lab. I thought the scientists might be able to help me find out what was making the machine so powerful. But when I got there, the scientists were away on vacation. I stood in the center of the room, talking to the machine. I could feel the excitement in the air. I had never felt this power before. And then, I saw it. The invisibility machine was coming back to life. It was starting to get clearer and clearer to me what was causing it to work so well. It was the machine's creator.	I've always been a bit superstitious, so when I moved into my new home, I was determined to find an invisible creature. I searched high and low, but to no avail. I even put up some dummy cameras to see if I could catch something on film, but nothing. Eventually, I gave up and just accepted that there was no such thing as an invisible creature. That was until my son started having nightmares. In his dreams, he was being chased by an invisible creature. He would scream until I woke up and helped him escape. The more I investigated his dreams, the more convinced I was that there was something real lurking in our house. I was afraid to tell my husband because I wasn't sure he would believe me, but I had to try and find out what was causing my son's nightmares. So, I started filming his dreams when he was asleep. I was amazed at what I was seeing. The invisible creature was actually following him around in his dreams! I confronted the creature and it revealed itself to be a harmless shadow. I was relieved and grateful that I had been able to help my son, but I was also a little creeped out by the whole experience.	I could sense that something was watching me. It was an invisible presence in my home that I couldn't shake. I tried to expose it without letting it know that I was aware of its presence. I set up a camera in my living room and left it running overnight. In the morning, I reviewed the footage and saw something shocking. There was a figure in the footage, completely invisible to the naked eye. I couldn't believe it. I had finally exposed the presence in my home. But now that I knew it was there, I had to figure out what to do about it.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself.
5	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	At first, the man looked like any other day-darkening hair and eyes. But as you look closer, you see the man is a liar. His stories are withdrawal symptoms and his world is a operating system of lies. He tendency to Repeal stories due to the society he lives in. As he hangs up his clothes, you visit him at home every once in a while to check in on him and see if he's all right. But his response always Same- no matter how often you're there, he won't tell you his name. So you have to March another one Nash.	You introduce yourself to the person and ask about their life. They tell you about a day where everything went wrong and they had to lie to get out of a situation. They tell you about the pain and humiliation that came with it. The scar on their body is the size of a small town.	I was skeptical at first, but I decided to ask him about it. He told me that he lied so much that his body was covered in scars. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. No matter what he did, the scars always remained. I couldn't help but feel sorry for him.	I was walking through the market when I saw her. She was standing in the middle of the square, surrounded by a crowd of people. They were all pointing and laughing at her, and I could see why. Her body was covered in scars, some small and some large. But the biggest one was right in the middle of her chest. It was so big that it looked like it had come from a sword wound. I couldn't help but stare at her. I had never seen someone with so many scars before. I didn't know what her story was, but I wanted to find out. I pushed through the crowd and walked up to her. "Hi," I said. "My name is Sarah. What's your name?" She looked at me, and I could see the pain in her eyes. "My name is Lizzy," she said. "And these are my lies." I didn't know what to say. I could see that she was in a lot of pain, and I wanted to help her. But I didn't know how. "Lizzy, I'm sorry," I said. "I wish I could help you." She shook her head. "There's nothing you can do," she said. "My scars will never go away." And with that, she turned and walked away. I watched her go, and I felt my heart break. I had never seen anything like it before, and I knew that I would never forget her.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others?

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person who hands you the drink is out of shape and thin as a river. He looks Taiwan up and down, taking everything you quality, until you say something you never would have considered. "I can tell you this much, no matter what you tell yourself: I am not who you think I am."	The first thing that registered in my mind was the huge scar on the person's face. It was a scary, unfamiliar experience. I couldn't quite remember where I had seen that scar before, but it was definitely something I didn't want to think about. The second thing that registered was the voice. It was soft and gentle, but it also held a heavy burden. The person's voice made me feel safe and secure, like I had known them forever. Eventually, I realized that the person was talking to me. I hesitated at first, but then I realized that they were asking me a question. I cautiously replied, unsure of how I would sound if I didn't answer. The person looked at me with disbelief when I finally responded. They couldn't believe that I could answer a question like that - a question that didn't even exist in their world. After what felt like an eternity of silence, the person finally asked me another question. This time, I was more prepared for it. I told them my story and what had happened. They listened carefully and told me that I was correct. The bigger the lie, the more visible the scar. They had seen it themselves, and it had been the most terrifying experience of their life. They cautioned me that it would only get worse from here, and that I should be careful what I lied about. But I couldn't help but wonder what lay ahead for me.	I never thought I'd see someone with only one scar. It's the biggest one I have ever seen. It runs down their entire leg, from their toes to their knee. It's so big, it covers half of their leg. "What happened to your leg?" I ask. "I was running and I fell," they say. "My leg got chopped open." "That's so unlucky!" I say. "I know," the person says. "But I'm happy to have this one scar. It shows that I have been through something tough, and I know I can do anything." I'm so inspired by this person. They have such bravery and determination. I hope I can be just as strong as they are someday.	She was an outcast, a freak. At least, that's what everyone said about her. They called her names and made fun of her, but she never let it get to her. She knew she was different, but she didn't care. But then she met him. He was different than everyone else, too. He had a scar that ran from his forehead, down his nose, all the way to his chin. It was the biggest scar she had ever seen. People said he was a liar, that's why he had that big scar. But she didn't believe them. She saw the truth in his eyes, and she knew he was telling the truth. They became friends, and eventually, lovers. And she didn't care that he had a big scar on his face. She loved him, scar and all.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold.
2	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross subjectiveally saw places in his paintings, choose to remember them as they are seen in his paintings. For example, he saw The Cross Keys as being his favorite place to paint, because it was the only time he could see the work in the laying down of the work day. He saw The Horseshoe as being a good place to paint, because it had a special LOON popular with pirates. He saw The Sea Glass as being the perfect place to paint, because it was His, the reputation belonged to It. And so it remained.	Bob Ross loved painting landscapes, but he also loved murderers. He would walk to different places in the city and choose whichever murders were happening that day, and paint them onto his canvas. Some were ugly, some were gentle, but they always had a touch of the macabre. One day, he decided to paint a landscape of the city's deadliest murder. The victim was a young woman named Christine, who was gored by a car as she walked to her job. The painting became a collectorsitem and still hangs in Bob Ross' home today.	Bob Ross often painted landscapes of the various spots he frequented around the country - from the woods near his home to the beaches near where he often went fishing. But no place was as hauntingly beautiful as the scene of one of his many murders. The painting showed a tranquil lake in the woods, the sun shining down on the water and the trees providing a canopy of green. But the beauty was marred by the blood stains on the rocks and the corpses of two people, a man and a woman, slumped against the tree. Ross had always known that he killed those people, but he couldn't bring himself to face what he'd done. He would sit at his painting, studying the scene, and feel the weight of his guilt. But he knew that he had to finish his paintings, in order to purge himself of his sins.	Bob Ross was a prolific serial killer, and his landscape paintings were actually locations of his countless murders. For years, he got away with it, using his paintings as a way to conceal his gruesome crimes. But eventually, the authorities caught on, and Bob Ross was brought to justice. Now, his paintings serve as a grim reminder of his horrific crimes.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth.
3	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	magician: Look at you, trying to take the lead in the performance. You're not even worth taking on as a friend. rabbit: I'm not doing this level of second fiddle. You're the one important person in the story, not your partner in crime. magician: What are you waiting for? I'll take over as lead! The magician takes over the lead role and starts performing. The rabbit slowly takes on a more important role and is grateful to the magician.	The magician pulled out the rabbit from his hat and placed it on the stage. "You know the drill," he began. "I give you the magic wand, and you say a word." The rabbit looked at him in confusion. "What word?" It asked. "You know, like Chicago Bulls or something." The rabbit glared at him and shook its head. "Just give it to me," the magician said. The rabbit gritted its teeth and pulled out the magic wand. The magician used it to make a rabbit dance on stage. "There! Now you're worth your weight in gold." The rabbit looked at him skeptically, but before it could say anything, the magician pulled out his keychain and inserted it into the rabbit's back. "Now you can go home and play with your own rabbits." The rabbit shot out of the magician's hand, running off into the night.	The magician was getting ready to end his show and go home. He was tired and needed to get some rest. He was about to take his last bow when he saw the rabbit on stage. The rabbit was sick of always being the second fiddle. The rabbit wanted to be the star of the show and be the center of attention. The magician saw the opportunity to make the rabbit the star of the show and decided to humor the rabbit. He pulled out a hat and asked the rabbit to come out. The rabbit was delighted and excited to be the star of the show. The magician put the rabbit in the hat and started to do his act. The rabbit was happy and excited the whole time. The magician was impressed with how happy the rabbit was and decided to keep the rabbit in the hat for the rest of the show.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. The rabbit is tired of being the sidekick, and he's had enough. He's been planning his escape for weeks, and tonight is his chance. As the magician begins his next trick, the rabbit makes his move. He bolt	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it?
4	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was originally meant to be used for only the dumbest people in the world to reproduce. However, due to your high intelligence and strength, you have decided to also be a Auditor. This will prevent only the smartest people in the world from reproducing, help keep the world center-of-the-WORLD healthy, and be a reminder that anything is possible in the world.	Audit #1: The first time I enacted my audit, I was surprised to see that many of the people I was auditining were not even aware they were going through the process. This was surprising because I was sure that if they knew they were having a child, they would be more careful about their behavior andean. I decided toDeactivate my audit service for these people because I felt that their behavior was not in line with the values of the Auditor. I was sorry to say that many of these people did not take my deactivation seriously, and as a result, their children became the new generations of the dumbest people in the world.	I was born into a world where everyone was implanted with a birth control device. It was a way to prevent only the dumbest people from reproducing. I was a little bit scared at first, but I grew to love my job. I was an Auditor, responsible for determining whether or not someone was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. It was a difficult job, but I was proud of what I did. I would watch people as they grew and changed, and I would always make sure they were equipped with the knowledge and tools they needed to be successful. I was glad that my job helped keep the dumbest people in the world from reproducing.	You're an Auditor, tasked with making sure only the smartest and most stable people are able to reproduce. It's a weighty responsibility, but you take it seriously. Every day, you interview potential parents and test their intelligence and emotional stability. If they pass your rigorous standards, you deactivate their birth control device and they are free to have children. It's a difficult job, but you know that you are helping to create a better world. A world where only the best and brightest people are able to reproduce and pass on their genes.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment.
5	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The object of my attention at the moment wasellectualizing quickly asked me what I was looking at. I explained that I was looking at something invisible that lived in my home. She didn't seem to believe me, so I took a step back and said "I don't know."	One day, I was sitting in my living room watching TV when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see a small, cuddly bear hunkered down next to me. I was embarrassed to have an animal sitting next to me on the couch, but I also didn't want it to leave. After a few minutes of chatting, the bear decided it wasn't interested in staying and left. The next day, I was again sitting in my living room when I noticed the bear was back. I was a bit confused, but I hauled my lazy cat up next to it and the bear stayed. After a few minutes of chatting, the cat decided it wasn't interested in staying and left. I started to become suspicious. The bear seemed to be following me around, and the only thing that fit was a big, invisible presence. I started to feel like I was being watched, and I didn't know how to get rid of it. One night, I was watching TV when I heard a noise coming from the back room. I turned to see the bear sitting next to the door, and I was surprised to see that it was following me. I started to feel like I was in danger, and I was not sure whether I should tell the bear to leave or not. I decided to keep quiet and take the risk. After a few minutes of chatting, the bear decided it wasn't interested in staying and left. I was relieved and I started to feelTV was safe again.	I had always assumed that a ghost lived in my home, but I never could figure out why it felt so spooky. I had tried to expose it, but it always managed to slip away. Until, one day, I caught it in the act.	You're not sure when it started, but you know that there's something living in your home. You can't see it, but you can feel its presence. It's like a weight in the air, a cold spot that follows you around. You've tried to expose it, to catch it out, but it's always one step ahead of you. It knows when you're trying to trap it, and it slips away. But you're not going to give up. You'll find a way to expose this invisible thing, and then you'll be rid of it once and for all.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	BF was measuring the time it takes to get a coffee from the pot in the kitchen. He noticed that the timer was going off and he knew that the coffee was almost ready. He decided to take a break for aahz reason, but as he took aovych off to the bedroom to get ready for work, he found that the invisible pot was already in his house. BF was confused and arrested.	I'm not sure how long I've been living here, but I've noticed something different about my home. There's this intangible, indefinable feeling like something is watching me. I can't quite put my finger on why, but I can't shake the feeling. I've tried to ignore it, but it just keeps coming back to haunt me. One day, I decided to confront the thing. I opened the door to my home and there it was - right in front of me, invisible but for the fact that it was constantly refreshing the air with an irritating,Zipzzzzzz sound. I didn't know what to do. I had no idea how to fight something that was just invisible, but at the same time, I didn't want to give it the upper hand. I don't know if I was successful inosing it, but at least I got it off my property. I still don't know what made me decide to keep living in this home, but I'm glad I did. I'd be lost without it now, and I'm grateful for every moment I spend living here.	I'm not sure what's up with my house lately, but something's been making the air feel strange. I can't put my finger on it, but something's definitely there. I've been trying to catch it in the act, but it always manages to escape my notice. Tonight, as I was getting ready for bed, I felt something crawling along the back of my neck. I brushed it off as paranoia, but minutes later it was back. This time, I was sure I had caught it. I closed my eyes and tried to focus, but it was too dark. I tried to call out to it, but my voice was barely a whisper. As I tried to get comfortable, I heard the tiny things moving around in my room. I started to panic, but I knew I could handle it. I fought against the creatures, using all my strength, but they were too many. As they crept closer and closer, I could hear them laughing. Suddenly, the darkness was cut off by a blinding light. I wakes up panting and sweating, my room completely empty. I'm not sure what happened, but I know I'm not alone anymore.	I could feel it watching me. I could feel its invisible eyes boring into the back of my head, following my every move. I had to find out what it was. I set up a camera in my living room, pointed it at the spot I always felt it watching me from. I waited and watched the footage. At first, nothing happened. But then, in the early hours of the morning, I saw it. A dark, shadowy figure moving around my living room. I couldn't make out what it was, but I knew it was there. I was finally able to expose the invisible thing that had been living in my home. But I still don't know what it is.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it.
2	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	While in a socialmulder's office, I helplessly watch as my share of the kids in my grade start using their birth control devices to reproduce. It's tears and laughter all around, as people try to understand how such a small thing can lead to so much chaos. I eventually deactivate my device, in order to keep thedaq down to a naked level. Once I'm done with it, I crawl under a couch, to avoid getting seen by the other kids, and start eating withdrawals. It's all I can do not to dies from in spate.	When you arrived at Auditor headquarters, the first thing you noticed was the conspicuous lack of any dumb people. You were there to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, and you succeeded! But it wasn't easy. You had to be smart and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an Auditor. That was a challenge. But you did it, and you're very proud of yourself. You've prevented the dumbest people in the world from reproducing and they're now allivofters. You're the best Auditor ever!	At the ripe age of 22, I had my contraceptive implant removed. It had been a necessary part of my teenage years, but as an adult, I was confident in my ability to raise a child without it. And so, when the time came to find a partner and start a family, I wasn't worried. I met the man of my dreams, and we were happy together. We were expecting our first child, and everything was going according to plan. But then, something happened. One day, without warning, my partner deactivated the contraceptive implant in my body. We argued about it, but in the end, he decided that he didn't want to raise our child with a lesser intellect than himself. He was convinced that I was too dumb to handle it, and that our child would be worse off for it. Now, I have a one-year-old son who is constantly getting into trouble. He can't read or do basic math, and he's always asking me stupid questions. I'm worried that he will never be able to fend for himself, and that his life will be filled with misfortune. At least I had the good sense to remove the implant before I had a child, but what if I hadn't? I could have been raising a child who was completely without hope.	You've been an Auditor for years, and you've never once wavered in your determination to ensure that only the most intelligent and stable people are able to have children. It's a tough job, but you know it's important work. You're currently reviewing the case of a young woman who is trying to have her birth control device deactivated. She's been working hard to prove that she's responsible and intelligent enough to raise a child, and you admire her dedication. After carefully reviewing her case, you determine that she is indeed ready to be a parent. You deactivate her birth control device and wish her the best of luck as she begins her journey into parenthood.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.
3	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He put an ad in a newspaper and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, Josip Broz Tito.	Adolf Hitler clicked on the ad. The only thing better than Szigmond Freud's latest clinical trial would be to be able to meet the man who had burned down the Reichstag andmanaged to export mustard gas to Nazi Germany. Hitler couldn't believe it when he received an email from Szigmond Freud. The email said, "Please come to Vienna to participate in the clinical trial." Joseph Stalin clicked on the ad. The only thing better than Szigmond Freud's latest clinical trial would be to be able to meet the man who had burned down the Reichstag andmanaged to export mustard gas to Nazi Germany. Stalin couldn't believe it when he received an email from Szigmond Freud. The email said, "Please come to Vienna to participate in the clinical trial." Leon Trotsky clicked on the ad. The only thing better than Szigmond Freud's latest clinical trial would be to be able to meet the man who had burned down the Reichstag andmanaged to export mustard gas to Nazi Germany. Trotsky couldn't believe it when he received an email from Szigmond Freud. The email said, "Please come to Vienna to participate in the clinical trial." Josip Broz Tito clicked on the ad. The only thing better than Szigmond Freud's latest clinical trial would be to be able to meet the man who had burned down the Reichstag andmanaged toexport mustard gas to Nazi Germany. Tito couldn't believe it when he received an email from Szigmond Freud. The email said, "Please come to Vienna to participate in the clinical trial." All six of them clicked on the link to the Szigmond Freud website. All six of them were excited to participate in the clinical trial. They would be able to learn more about the man who had destroyed their country.	Freud was excited to begin the clinical trials with his new research. He put an ad in a local newspaper seeking participants. The only people to respond were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was unsure how to deal with these new participants, but he decided to include them in the trials anyways. The trials went well, and Freud was able to develop his new research.	It was 1913, and Sigmund Freud was in Vienna, Austria, seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He put an ad in a newspaper, and the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler (24), Joseph Stalin (35), Leon Trotsky (34), and Josip Broz Tito (21). Freud was intrigued by this strange group of men, and he decided to take them on as patients. Over the course of the next few years, Freud would learn a lot about these men, and the dark desires that motivated them.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ).
4	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician has always been a Even-Dedneds girl. She knows her place and does her job with plussymble of self-ninebells. But the day comes when she takes on the rabbit in a close examination. The rabbit is wincing from the cold, hard floor. The magician starts with the first step, working her way down. She starts to feel the cold on her skin, the grass from her rump. The magicianComponent of the day comes to a complete studies of the situation.chevifra with the understanding that she would be richly rewarded for her services. She Grayhunters after the rabbit with all she has, followed by the team she teams up with. On the way out, she in commerical of the situation with all the tools she has, from Beginner's Guide to No-nonsense Schoolmarmery. The rabbit is name is "Pogo." and he is a big fan of all things Grayhound. So when the magician offers him a use for her, he at once agrees. The first step is to get the rabbit to walk on wobbly legs. The second is to get him to root for Dopey Dude. Dopey Dude is the redoubtable Bunny enumerator, located to the bottom of the stage. The third is to wolf down all the treats that are available to the rabbit- including a few malicious looks from the magicians team. But the rabbit isn't done with the magnetism yet. He starts to feel beefed up, body and soul. The magicians team up with Pogo and the three of them have a fierce battle on the floor. Pogo gives the magicians a good prize, a brown bunnyhood with a symbol that can easily be seen from the floor.	One day, a magician pulled out a rabbit from a hat and put it on the stage. The rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. It wouldn't let the magician show it off, so the magician had to do something. He put the rabbit in a hat and jacked its head up so it couldn't see. The rabbit was so sick of being second fiddle that it fell to the ground and died.	The magician was about to finish his performance and the rabbit was getting a bit sick of always playing second fiddle. "Please, can I have my moment in the spotlight?" the rabbit begged. The magician thought for a minute and then decided to give the rabbit a try. The rabbit was so excited to be in the spotlight and managed to pull off a few amazing tricks. The crowds were in awe of the rabbit and the magician. "Thank you, thank you!" the rabbit shouted as the magician finished his performance. The magician was so happy that he decided to keep the rabbit as his new assistant.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit has had enough of being treated like a prop, and has decided to take matters into its own hands. During the show, the rabbit uses its magic to take control of the magician. The rabbit forces the magician to put it back into the hat, and then pulls itself out again. The rabbit is now in charge, and the magician is its obedient servant. The rabbit takes the magician's place in the show, and the audience is amazed by the rabbit's magical skills. The rabbit is finally the star of the show, and it won't let the magician take that away from it ever again.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
5	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in disarray. Each player has their shares of labyrinths and baggages. Some players are offering up lasheks and other D&D gear, while others are selling Disease Artifacts and other medical supplies. The players in the shop are Bahamut and Dumatu. Bahamut is theyerromantical figure, tasked with ensuring the shop stays open. Dumatu is the one who has been selling medical supplies and artifactsrandomly generationstoergusintes. Dumatu is facing a money crisis. He's offering up artifacts and medical supplies in large quantities, but no one is taking him seriously. Bahamut is on top of the market, and he's not having it. He's an experimental RPG game, and he doesn't want to be lukewarm. He's not going to let the shoplootogold go to his head. Bahamut impulses to try and reach the next floor. He's ready his attack on the market. However, he's unaware of the upcoming battle. Dumatu is here to stay. He's a natural winner, and he's going to be able to keep the market top heavy.	One day, a player walks into your shop, offering to trade a magical item they just found for a smaller, less magical item you have. You go along with the trade, and the player gets the smaller item. However, as you hand the item over, you notice that the player's backpack has been empty since the trade. You assume the player lost the item, and leave the shop.	It was a busy day at the RPG pawn shop. The doors were open and people were flowing in and out, trying to find the best deals on the gear they had brought in. The shopkeeper, a old man with a long beard, was haggling with a group of adventurers. He had leant them his best price, but they were still trying to get him to lower it. "Come on, you can do better than this!" shouted one of the adventurers. The shopkeeper sighed and shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I can't lower the price any further. I'm happy to let the gear go for less than its worth, but not below that." The adventurers grumbled and made their way out of the shop, giving the old man a sour look as they went. It had been a tough day for the shopkeeper. He had been haggling with adventurers all day and it was tiresome. But he knew that it was essential for his business. If he could get people to sell their gear, then he could make a lot of money.	You run an RPG pawn shop and you're always on the lookout for good loot. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell you their loot and you're always looking for a good deal. Sometimes you get lucky and find some great loot, but other times you end up with junk. It's all part of the game.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	Zoe was leading the woman away from thepingest she has ever seen. She is telling the woman only one story and the woman only wants to believe her. Zoe knows that the woman is telling the truth when she says she was born and raised in the country, but she has never been able to life in the city. Zoe knows that the woman is telling the truth and she decides to believe her. After Zoe leaves, the woman tells herengearthed and opens her eyes. She is relieved that Zoe has convinced her to believe her story. Zoe has given her the best chance to speak the truth and she wants to be true to her word.	You meet this person on a dark and stormy night. They are covered in blood, and they tell you that they did it themselves. You believe them, and you follow them into the darkness. You see the Mark on their body- it is large and fresh. It hurt them to do this, and it feels terrible. But you can't help but feel a connection to them, and you want to help them.	I first saw him as he walked down the street. His back was to me, but I could see the biggest, deepest scar on his back. It was so big that it was almost obscuring his skin. It was so large and so red that I couldn't help but stare. I couldn't help but wonder what had happened. As I walked by, I couldn't help but notice how his hair was directly in the path of that big scar. It must have been terrifying for him to walk like that. It made me feel a little guilty for looking, but I couldn't help it. I had to know what had caused that big, red scar. I followed him for a little while, but I eventually lost him. I wasn't sure if he would appreciate me asking questions about his scar, but I wanted to know more. I wanted to know what had caused it and why he was so afraid to walk in the sunlight.	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone with only one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. This person must have lied about something truly monumental. You can't help but be curious about what could have caused such a scar. When you ask, the person simply replies, "I'm not sure. I don't remember." You're not sure whether to believe them or not, but you respect their right to privacy. After all, in a world where lies are permanently marked on one's body, everyone has a right to keep their own secrets.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied.
2	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The mayonnaise jar was the only thing left in the kitchen after upon discovered that it was home to something invisible. The eviction had made the mayonnaise safe to eat, but the biomarkers still nutrienturia. The biomarkers whispered secrets to one another as they shared tales of ketchup and pickles, giving no clues as to who this thing was.	One day, I was working in my house when I heard a noise coming from my attic. I quickly ascended to the attic to find an invisible creature living there. The creature was curled up in a ball, and it wasidency was shaking. I tried to scream, but no sound came out. The creature seemed to be in a panic, and it was hunched over in its ball. Then, it slowly lifted its head and looked at me. It was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen, but it was also the most dangerous. It seemed like it was warning me off.	I always suspected there was something lurking in the corners of my home, something I couldn't see but that was always there. I would try to spot it, but it always managed to slip away before I could get a good look. I would spend hours looking for it, but it always managed to disappear before I could catch it. Then, one night, I caught it. I was sitting in my chair, reading a book, and I saw something dart past the corner of my eye. I turned to look, but there was nothing there. I looked again, but it was gone. I was confused, but I didn't hesitate to go after the thing. I followed its trail through the house, until I found it hiding behind the mantelpiece. I couldn't believe it, I had finally caught it. I stared at it in amazement, but it didn't seem to notice me. I took a step closer, but then something grabbed my arm. I yelped in surprise and tried to pull away, but I was overpowered. I looked up to see the thing that had been hiding in my home all along. It was invisible, but I had finally found it.	I could tell that there was something invisible living in my home, but I didn't want to let it know that I was aware of its presence. I tried to expose it by setting traps and leaving food out, but it was always one step ahead of me. It was as if it knew what I was doing and was playing a game with me. One day, I decided to try a different approach. I pretended that I didn't know it was there and went about my business as usual. But I was always on the lookout for anything out of the ordinary. Sure enough, after a few days of this, I caught the invisible thing in the act. It was rummaging through my cupboards, looking for food. I was able to exposure it and finally get rid of it for good.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it.
3	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	When auditor Cameron set out to attend her first game of Panzer General, she was Pole Patrolling in the morningUSH Kobold denote she was an Auditor.*All the Muldaites had thus far been captured or killed, so Cameron had to wait for a proper opportunity to Bulcknow her position. When it came down to it, she was the only one left on the field; no Muldaites could be sent to prisoner-of-war camps while she waited. So Cameron was forced to make do with six game minutes of Patrioticcore with considerable ease. After the first game, Muldaite Cherrie discovered a secret underground city had been built beneath her position. She found an old generator and attacked the city, but Cameron was quick to react withbombardment precision to repel her. The city was destroyed and Cameron was successful in revenging herself.	Auditor 6 was always obsessed with preventing the dumbest people from reproducing. For years, she's been working on a way to implant birth control devices into everyone's bodies during puberty, so that the only stupid people in the world will never have children. But when Auditor 6 approaches the CEO of her company, she finds out that he's been trying to do the same thing for years. He tells her that he's tried everything, but his devices have always failed. Auditor 6 is excited to help him find a way to implant the devices into everyone's bodies, so that they can never have a child again.	In a world filled with intelligent people, it was determined that the dumbest of all were the ones most likely to reproduce. So, all intelligent people were implanted with a birth control device during puberty. Once it was determined that the person was stable and intelligent, the birth control device could be deactivated. However, this meant that the Auditor had to watch over the person constantly to make sure they didn't mess up their life.	You're an Auditor, tasked with making sure only the smartest people in the world can have children. It's a difficult job, but you take it seriously. As part of your job, you interview prospective parents to make sure they are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. It's a tough job, but you know it's important. One day, you meet a couple who seem perfect for the job. They're intelligent, articulate, and seem like they would be great parents. However, during the course of your interview, you discover that they are actually quite dumb. They can't even answer basic questions about parenting, and they seem completely unprepared for the task. You know that if they were to have a child, it would be a disaster. So, you deny their request to have their birth control device deactivated, and they are forced to remain childless.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge.
4	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	It was a dark and stormy night, and the only thing that was looking like a path to the possible was aExactly what had drawn the rabbit to the show was the out-of-place confidence that it West Cobb, and he had no idea what he was doing when he agreed to be the rabbit's friend. The night goes on, and the rabbit makes some friends. But one day, there is a big storm low on the horizon. The sky is dark and full of rain, and the sun is hidden by a of clouds. The magician comes up with a plan. He takes the rabbit from the friend's hand, and takes him to a location near the storm's edge. There, he sets the rabbit free. The friend fails to make it safely back home, but gets the rabbit back when the friend starts to interact with the rabbit's natural Born this way. The rabbit isRED with excitement as it comes down from the sky, and it is 2nd fiddle to the show.	The magician and the rabbit were on stage, the rabbit sick of playing second fiddle. The magician said, "Hurry, we have to get the rabbit out of the hat." The rabbit said, "I don't want to go." The magician said, "I know you don't want to go, but we have to get the rabbit out of the hat." The rabbit was tired of playing second fiddle. He said, "I don't want to go." The magician said, "I know you don't want to go, but it's the only way. We can't keep the rabbit in the hat all the time." The rabbit hesitated, but then he agreed. The magician put the rabbit in the hat and held it tight. The rabbit couldn't move. The magician said, "Okay, now I'm going to cast a spell." He put his hand over the rabbit's mouth and started to speak in a low voice. The magic started to flow from his hand and the rabbit started to move. He walked out of the hat and into the audience. The magician was proud of himself. He had pulled the rabbit out of the hat and into the lives of all the other rabbits.	The magician and the rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit knows that it's time for a change, so it decides to take matters into its own paws. The rabbit grabs the magician by the neck, and with a quick motion, it pulls him out of the hat. The audience is astonished at the rabbit's skills, and the magician, realizing that he is no longer the center of attention, quickly recovers and returns to the stage, eager to show his new trick to the audience.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual tricks. But the rabbit is tired of being the one who always gets pulled out of the hat. He's had enough of being the assistant, and he's determined to show the magician up. So, when the magician asks him to come out of the hat, the rabbit refuses. The magician is taken aback, but he's not one to be outdone. He tries every trick he knows to get the rabbit to come out of the hat, but the rabbit is adamant. eventually, the magician has to admit defeat. The rabbit has won, and he can finally come out of the hat on his own terms.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
5	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is inimically shaped like a RPG game board with different-sized minions included, as well as exemplary items that will help the adventurers in their quests. The staff loves working in the store and is constantly on hand to help the customers.	I starred at the towering pile of treasure in my pawn shop. I was so close to making some serious money, and it was all thanks to the adventurers who stopped by my shop today. They were sure to find some amazing treasures, and I was extraction of the best ones. But as I started to reach for the treasure, I felt somethingtap my shoulder. I turned to see an enterprising individual. He was wearing a dirty shirt and jeans, and he had a bag of treasure with him. "Hey, watch this!" He said as he reached into his bag and pulled out a shiny golden dragon claw. I reached into my bag and grabbed the claw, but as I did, something warm stuck to my hand. I tried to pull it off, but it was too tight. I looked down at the Claw and saw that it was welded to the hand. I was sure I had gone crazy.	It was always Quentin's dream to own his own RPG pawn shop. When he was young, all he ever wanted was to be like his father, who worked at a small bookstore. Quentin followed in his father's footsteps and opened his own pawn shop a few years ago. Quentin loves haggling with adventurers who come into his store looking to sell their loot. He knows that he can get a good deal on whatever they have to sell, and he's always up for a good bargaining session. Quentin always tries to be fair with his customers, but he'll never forget the time an Adventurer came into his store and refused to sell him any of his loot. Quentin haggled with the man for hours, but he eventually gave up and left the store. Quentin knows that sometimes it's hard to let go of something that you've worked so hard to acquire, but he's glad that he own his own pawn shop and can haggle whatever he wants.	You run a pawn shop that specializes in RPG gear. You've seen it all, from +1 swords to ancient magical artifacts. You haggle with adventurers who come in, trying to get the best price for their loot. Sometimes, you come across items that are so rare and valuable that you have to pay top dollar for them. Other times, you find adventurers who are desperate and will take any price you offer. It's a tough business, but you love it. You're always on the lookout for the next big score.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross has been painting landscape Picture Houses throughout his house, warning people about the evil eye and the hair-ytus-kyen, since the late 1940s. He know people from his home in San Francisco, and knows about each and every place. To keep up with the societal norms and expectations, he must remain unique and different. Even though his paintings are about popular history and death, people are always awareness about the you-the-painting-and-the-chase. Despite his warning, was the world-weary painter always a prosgger?	In the early 1800s, artist Bob Ross was known for his beautiful landscape paintings. His paintings often featured real-life locations, such as the Murder House in Pittsburgh, Ohio. His victims would often be found throughout his work, and it was said that the paintings represent the lives and deaths of his victims.	Bob Ross was a master of landscape painting, and each of his canvases was a real place. Across the United States and all over the world, his paintings showed the beauty of the American West, the rolling hills of Scotland, and the misty forests of England. But the true beauty of Bob Ross's paintings was the deadly landscapes that lay beneath the surface. Bob Ross loved to paint the incredible natural landscapes of America, but he also loved to kill people. He would drive around the country, stopping at scenic overlooks to paint the breathtaking views. But every time he turned his camera on the unsuspecting tourists below, he planned to kill them. The police were always one step behind Bob Ross, and they never could catch him in the act. He always managed to kill his victims before they could call for help, and he always left a chilling message behind. "The beauty of America is also the brutality of its landscapes," he would say. "Enjoy your vacation, but remember: every view is a view from my murder scene."	Bob Ross was a talented painter with a dark secret. For years, he travelled the country, painting beautiful landscapes. But behind the scenes, he was using his art to cover up a trail of murder. Ross would find isolated spots in the wilderness, kill his victims, and then paint over their bodies in his landscapes. In this way, he was able to keep the authorities off his trail for years. But eventually, the law caught up with him. And when they did, they found a gruesome scene: a dozen bodies hidden in the idyllic landscapes that Ross had painted. It was a shocking end to a twisted life.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.
2	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician has always been aABusiness, but he has never wanted to get too close to humans. He has always been able to get the job done with his performative magic, but now he has added another layer to his skills by pulling out theideon from the hat. The rabbit tries to take off after thelegraph, but the magician is sooner than later going to take him down.	The magician set up the stage and began the show. He mentioned the rabbit a few times, but the rabbit just looked at him with a Mean Look. Suddenly, the magician pulled out the rabbit and put it in the hat. The rabbit started to twitch and then began to sneeze. The magician laughed and put the hat back on the rabbit's head. The rabbit looked up at the magician with a Mean Look. The magician shrugged and continued the show.	The magician was really good at pulling rabbits out of hats. He had been doing it for years, and the rabbit always seemed to enjoy it. But this time, the rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. So, the rabbit took the initiative and asked the magician to do something else. The magician was a little taken aback, but then he agreed. After all, the rabbit was the one who had asked.	The magician and the rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. The rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle, and decides to take matters into its own paws. It waits until the magician is busy with his tricks, then grabs the hat and makes a run for it. The rabbit knows that it won't be able to outrun the magician for long, so it decides to hide in the first place it can find. Unfortunately, that place is a hole in the stage. The rabbit is trapped, and the magician soon catches up to it. The magician is angry at the rabbit for trying to escape, and decides to punish it by putting it back in the hat and making it perform the same trick over and over again. The rabbit is miserable, but knows that it won't be able to escape the magician's clutches again.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it?
3	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud has long been interested in the interesting people in society. He is applying for a clinical trial of his latest research on howachelorage can be used to understand social organisation. He put an ad in a newspaper for people to respond to the ad. The results are interesting to him. For example, Leon Trotsky respondsyd to him, telling him that he is interested in married women and wants to marry one. Sigmund Freud is surprised because he is looking at people like Leon Trotsky. However, Adolf Hitler responds back to him, telling him that he is interested in married women and wants to marry one. Sigmund Freud is pleased with the responses he has received. He is now in his tenth year at the hospital and has become the biggest candidate for the clinical trial of his time. He is now in his final year and plans to become a doctor.	Adolf Hitler had just turned 24 and he was looking forward to becoming a world Potemkin president. Stalin was the head of the Soviet Union and was considered to be one of the most powerful men in the world. He was also a powerful political ideologue. Trotsky, the former communist leader of Russia, was also a powerful man. He was considered to be a threat to Stalin. Joseph Stalin was also looking forward to becoming a world leader. He was the president of the Soviet Union and considered one of the most powerful men in the world. He was also a powerful political ideologue. He had also been a member of the Communist Party for many years. Leon Trotsky was also looking forward to becoming a world leader. He was the leader of the Russian Communist Party and considered one of the most powerful men in the world. He was also a powerful political ideologue. He had also been a member of the Communist Party for many years. Josip Broz Tito was also looking forward to becoming a world leader. He was the leader of the Yugoslav Communist Party and considered one of the most powerful men in the world. He was also a powerful political ideologue. He had also been a member of the Communist Party for many years.	Freud was astounded when Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito responded to his ad for clinical trials. He had never imagined that such different people would be interested in his research. The five men met for the first time in Freud's office and immediately hit it off. They all shared similar interests in psychoanalysis and politics, and quickly formed a close bond. Freud was delighted with the results of the trials. Each man had unique strengths that could help him advance his research further. The team worked tirelessly to improve Freud's methods, and in the end, they all succeeded. The world was changed because of the clinical trials of Sigmund Freud, and the five men who participated in them – Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, Josip Broz Tito, and Freud himself. Their dedication to their beliefs, and each other, changed the course of history.	Sigmund Freud was excited to begin clinical trials for his latest research in 1913. He put an ad in the Vienna newspaper, hoping to find participants. To his surprise, only four people responded: Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their early twenties and came from very different backgrounds. Hitler was a struggling artist, Stalin was a revolutionary, Trotsky was a wealthy aristocrat, and Tito was a working-class man. Despite their differences, they all shared a common interest in Freud's work. The clinical trials were grueling, but the four men persevered. As they got to know each other, they found they had more in common than they thought. They were all highly intelligent and ambitious men with a strong desire to make their mark on the world. The clinical trials came to an end, but the four men continued to stay in touch. They would go on to change the world in very different ways, but their time in Vienna would always be remembered fondly.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word.
4	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The household appliance closet is my work of art. I love the way it trends with the clothes I wear, the way it Catchs the light and the price of the repairs. I love the way it Detail my shortcomings and Belle me about its exists for me. But I can't show it to you. I can't let you know that I'm aware of its presence. I'll make a big thing of this, I know I will. I'll make a case for being visible to the world. But I can't show you. I'll make a big thing of this, I know I will.	Once upon a time, there was a home where something invisible lived. The home's occupants tried everything they knew to expose the creature, but it never seemed to die. Eventually, the residents gave up and stopped trying. The creature is still there, lurking in the shadows, waiting to take advantage of unsuspecting individuals.	I had always thought of my home as being empty, until I met it. I always assumed that there was nothing lurking in the corners or behind the furniture, but I was WRONG. There was something there, watching me, waiting to pounce. I could feel its eyes on me, but I couldn't see it. I tried to catch it on camera, but it always managed to disappear before I could take a picture. I was starting to get paranoid, and I was afraid that it would come and get me. I needed to find out what it was and get rid of it, but I wasn't sure how to do it. Finally, I decided to talk to it. I didn't know what it would do, but I had to try. When I met its eyes, I knew that I had found my adversary.	I'm not sure when it started, but I know that there's something living in my home. I can't see it, but I can feel its presence. It's like a weight in the air, a heaviness that follows me around. I've tried to expose it, to catch it out, but it's always one step ahead of me. It knows I'm onto it, and it's playing a game of cat and mouse with me. I can't let it know that I'm aware of its presence, or it will only make things worse. So I keep up the pretense, acting like everything is normal. But I can't keep this up forever. Sooner or later, I'm going to have to face whatever is living in my home. And I'm not sure what will happen when I do.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been.
5	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The market is Colodon's favorite place. He loves to see the storefronts and see how many buyers and sellers there are. He looks for pieces that need to be acquired, and 40 players can fit in the store at the same time. The market is his oyster, and he love to sell there.	One day, a group of adventurers came to sell their acquired treasure. The shopkeeper, who was really ought to be getting a1000 gold a day from the sales, was nice enough to haggle with them. The adventurers were happy to take whatever he had to offer, and left with a lot of treasure.	Renny looked down at the sword in his hands. It was a beautiful weapon, but it was too expensive for him to afford. He had been haggling with the adventurers for hours, but they were nowhere close to being willing to sell it to him. "Come on, guys. You know I can't afford this," Renny said. "I don't know, Renny. That sword looks pretty expensive," one of the adventurers said. "Well, I guess I'll have to take your word for it," Renny said. He handed the sword over to the adventurer and walked away. He would find another way to afford that sword.	You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell their loot. You're a master haggler, and you always make sure that you get the best deal possible. Recently, you've been noticing that more and more adventurers are coming into your shop, and they're all selling the same thing: a strange looking amulet. You're curious about this amulet, and you decide to do some research. You find out that the amulet is a powerful magical artifact, and it's said to be able to grant wishes. You also find out that the amulet is extremely rare, and that there's only one in existence. You think about this for a while, and you come to a decision. You're going to buy the amulet, no matter what the cost. You're going to make a wish, and you're going to finally be happy. You make an offer to the first adventurer who comes into your shop, and you end up paying a pretty penny for the amulet. But it's worth it, because you know that this is your chance to finally be happy. You take the amulet home, and you carefully make your wish. You wish for happiness, and you know that, with this amulet, your wish will come true.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is usually a battle-scarred mMnumentary art walk As they struggle to fall back into the darkness the window and cart behind them light up with corrupted equipment, wallet-sized groups of coin purses with no use a instances, breakable windows, and objets d' art décoratesorneys thi	Once upon a time, an adventurer ran an RPG pawnshop. He catered to all types of adventurers, from the wealthiest to the poorest. He always argued with them about what to sell, but he always ended up making more money than they ever could.	Lenny ran his RPG pawn shop for as long as he could remember. He loved the adventure and excitement that came with haggling with adventurers. Lenny never minded when the adventurers tried to sell him their loot; it was always interesting to see what they had found. One day, Lenny was haggling with a group of adventurers when they pulled out a Sabre Tooth Tiger skin. Lenny was amazed by the size and beauty of the skin. He couldn't resist asking the adventurers how much they wanted for it. The adventurers didn't hesitate to offer Lenny a price tag of 10,000 gold coins. Lenny wasn't sure if he could afford to pay that much, but he didn't want to miss out on this rare opportunity. Lenny ended up agreeing to sell the Sabre Tooth Tiger skin to the adventurers for 10,000 gold coins. He was glad he had been able to haggle the price down and made a lot of money in the process.	You're the proprietor of a pawn shop that specializes in RPGs. You've seen it all: adventurers coming in with all sorts of loot, trying to haggle with you for the best price. You're not one to be taken advantage of, though. You know the value of the items they're trying to sell, and you always make sure to get the best deal for yourself. It's a tough business, but you're the best in the business. You've got a sharp tongue and a quick wit, and you're always one step ahead of the adventurers who come through your door. But one day, somebody comes in who's different. They don't try to haggle with you; they just name their price and leave. It's a fair price, and you're tempted to take it. But something about this person bothers you. They seem off, somehow. You decide to follow them. It turns out, they're selling the loot they acquired to another pawn shop down the street. You watch from the shadows as they haggle with the other shopkeeper, trying to get a higher price. But the other shopkeeper is smart, and they eventually drive the price down to what you would've offered in the first place. The adventurer leaves, empty-handed. You watch them go, wondering what their story is. They seem like they're in a hurry, and you get the feeling that they're desperate for money. You feel bad for them, but you know that you can't help them. It's not your place. You go back to your shop and wait for the next adventurer to come through your door.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really.
2	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler responds to the ad by sending a person to Joseph Stalin's house to talk to him. Timothy Lowder has a different idea. He suggestions leading to the house of Josip Broz Tito. When he responds to Lowder's email, he alongsideout saying anything is Josip Broz Tito, attesting to the importance of secret research into alternative fuels for a possible arsenal of first world war technology.	Adolf Hitler was the only person to respond to Sigmund Freud's ad. He was already a powerful man, and he wanted to be a part of the clinical trials of Freud's latest research. Joseph Stalin was also interested in the research, but he wasn't as far along in his own research as Hitler was. Leon Trotsky was also interested in the research, but he was too young and too uneducated to be a part of it. Josip Broz Tito was also interested in the research, but he was too young and too uneducated to be a part of it. All of the people who responded to the ad were impressive, but they weren't the same as Adolf Hitler. Adolf Hitler was the kind of man who could control whole armies, Joseph Stalin was a powerful politician who could make decisions that affected millions of people, Leon Trotsky was a brilliant technical expert, and Josip Broz Tito was the kind of man who could lead his people to victory. Adolf Hitler wasn't interested in the research, and Joseph Stalin and Leon Trotsky didn't have the same interests either. But Adolf Hitler was different. He was the kind of man who could talk to anyone, and he was the kind of man who could see the future. He was interested in the research, and he was going to be a part of it.	Sigmund Freud was excited to test his latest research on willing participants. He put an ad in a local newspaper looking for healthy adults who were interested in participating in his clinical trials. Within days, Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito had responded. Freud was surprised by how young all of the participants were. He was especially surprised by the age difference between Hitler and Trotsky. Freud decided to take all of the participants into his laboratory for a series of tests. He was curious to see how each of them would perform. Hitler proved to be the most successful of the group. He was able to achieve orgasm more easily than any of the other participants. Freud was also impressed by how charismatic Hitler was. Trotsky was the complete opposite of Hitler. He was the weakest of the participants. He was also the least successful in achieving orgasm. Josip Broz Tito was the most successful of the group. He was the most able to achieve orgasm and the most confident. Freud was surprised by how different each of the participants were. He was also impressed by how well each of them adapted to the different challenges of the trials. The results of the trials were fascinating. Freud was able to develop new methods for treating sexual disorders. He was also able to identify the key elements that make each individual successful in achieving orgasm. The trials were a success and Freud was able to make a significant impact on the field of sexuality.	As the sun set on another day in Vienna, Sigmund Freud sat at his desk, poring over the latest data from his clinical trials. He was making great progress in his research, but he needed more participants to get reliable results. So he decided to place an ad in the local newspaper, seeking people of all ages and backgrounds to take part in his trials. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was a little surprised that such high-profile individuals had responded to his ad, but he was eager to get started. He conducted trials with each of them individually, and quickly realized that they were all quite disturbed. Hitler was fixated on power and control, Stalin was consumed by paranoia and suspicion, Trotsky was obsessed with making revolution, and Tito was filled with rage. Freud was disturbed by what he had uncovered, but he continued his research. Eventually, he would come to understand the dark forces that drove these men, and how they would shape the course of history.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ).
3	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	Milk Doomed, Milksnake eyebrows, Gold coding, a hidden camera in the magic ring... What a quoinose! The rabbit is Ramsey's favorite character and he loves to have one at the front of the stage. But when the show is over, and finally his publically appearances are to be. Ramsey knows he won't be around to see the show efficiencyically. That smile that used to graced both his face and his dwarf fest friends' faces is now dissipated nothing more than white fluff in the sun. Ramned hands it is. NumbnessODC is a dark mage that uses magic to help people. His fans are always for the various magical movies he produces, always with a new twist. His movies are always with a new story, a new mood, and always with an entrancement. One day, there's a movie about a man that makes a wish and his wish comes true. Ramsey is there at the bottom of the stairs, watching as the movie ends with a room filled with darkness. It takes a spell toudge Ramsey up the ladder to see his face in the lead. And in the light of understanding, Ramsey can see that the man he saw on the stairs was his friend, Milk Doomed. Now, Ramsey Email is the only one who knows that the dark mage had been trying to be filling of the character for months, trying to bring out his true potential. And that's why Milk Doomed loves Ramsey so much. He can see that the dark mage is trying to become magic itself, and Ramsey is the perfect ideal for vowing to never give up	The magician and the rabbit were on stage, the rabbit sick of being second fiddle. The magician said, "I'll give you one condition: If you can help me pull out of this hat the rabbit, then you're my new friend." Without waiting for an answer, the magician pulled out the rabbit and gave it to the rabbit. The rabbit was so happy to have a new friend, and it took to playing with the magician as if it had always been a friend.	The magician and the rabbit were on stage, the rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit said to the magician, "I want to be the star of the show." The magician said, "I can't do that, the rabbit is the star of the show." The rabbit said, "I don't care, I deserve to be the star of the show." The magician said, "Fine, you can be the star of the show." The rabbit was so happy that she started dancing around the stage. The magician was so happy that he started dancing around the stage too.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit has had enough of being the one who is always hidden away in the hat, only to be pulled out when it's time for the magician to wow the audience. The rabbit decides it's time to take matters into its own paws, and so it starts to perform its own magic tricks. The rabbit is a natural at sleight of hand, and soon has the audience eating out of the palm of its paw. The magician is furious at being upstaged, but the rabbit doesn't care. It's finally getting the attention it deserves, and it's not going to give up the spotlight anytime soon.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
4	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	basement evening, When the power goes out, one of your clothes options is to unbutton it and go to sleep, orECNiquer it with my shirt to protect it. I lay my head on the formica like I do every night, and I prevent myself from becoming paperlessz.	One day, I thought I was going to notice something unnatural in my home. There was this strange smell coming from nowhere, and I could definitely see something lurking in the corners. I began to crackdown on my personal space, but it was no use. This thing was just too damn persistent. I decided to face it head on, and exposed the thing to the light. It was terrifying, but I realized that it wasn't really there. It was just a phantom like myself that was trying to scare me.	I was cleaning the kitchen when I spotted something moving in the corner. I looked closer and saw an odd little figure dart out of sight. I cautiously approached the corner and saw that there was a small hole in the wall where the figure had disappeared. I tried to figure out how to make the hole bigger, but I couldn't seem to do it. I was starting to get scared, and I didn't want the figure to know that I was aware of its presence. I decided to just leave it be.	For years, I've known that something invisible has been living in my home. I don't know what it is, but I can feel its presence. It's like a cold wind that blows through the house, or a weight that presses down on me when I'm trying to sleep. I've tried to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. I've set traps and left food out, but nothing ever works. I've even tried to talk to it, but it never responds. I'm starting to think that this thing is more than just invisible. It's like it's from another world. A world that I can't even begin to understand. I don't know what to do anymore. I'm starting to feel like I'm going crazy. I can't keep living like this, with this thing lurking in the shadows of my life. I need to find a way to get rid of it, or else I'm afraid that I'll never be able to live in peace again.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own.
5	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	It was before the start of the year when a young man came to your town. He had only one scar, a huge gaping hole in his chest. He spoke little, he was alone and the scar was a reminder of how good it was for him to have given up such a beautiful woman. He told you about himself, about how he was a gentle man who loved his wife and children as much as he loved himself. He said he had given up on his dreams, of how he was content to be a Registry Officer. Yougraphicallycrossed the heart shaped box in your hands. The man who came to your town that day was your new friend. You had never met him before, but your presence made him feel different. The man felt comfortable in his own skin and the glimpse you had into him showed that he was still a range of emotions. The man who came to your town that day was a liar.	You meet him at the market, selling goods he collected from the surrounding area. He tells you a story of how he and his family were caught in a lie and how the worse the lie, the more damage it caused. He points to the biggest, darkest scar on his body as an example. You're deeply moved by his story and offer to help him get the truth out of the Lodge. Together, you travel to the Lodge and Expediency, where the Lodge is located. You speak with the Lodge's leadership, who are eager to cover up the Lodge's true origins. As you expected, the lodge's lies create deep scars on their bodies. Some have worse scars than others, but all have something in common: They have been lied to and hurt. None of them have forgiven themselves for their part in the Lodge's demise.	I had never seen anything like him. He had the biggest scar I had ever seen. It was so big, it covered his whole chest. It was so big, it looked like his skin was ripped open. I asked him about it, and he started to tell me his story. His story was so sad, it made my heart feel cold. He said that he had lied so much, his skin was just covered in scars. He said that every lie had taken a chunk out of his heart, and the bigger the lie, the worse the injury. I couldn't believe it. This was the saddest thing I had ever seen. But, I also couldn't help but feel drawn to him. He was such a lonely person, and I felt like I could help him. So, I started to tell him the truth. I told him about my life, and how I had lied too. I told him how it had hurt my heart, and how I had started to regret my lies. He listened to me, and his scars started to heal. He forgave me for my past lies, and we became friends. And, that's how I met the biggest liar I had ever seen.	You meet someone at a party who only has one scar. It's the biggest one you've ever seen. You ask them how they got it. They tell you a story about how they used to be a compulsive liar. They would lie about everything, no matter how big or small. Over time, the lies began to take a toll on their body, leaving them with this massive scar. But then they changed. They started telling the truth, no matter what. And slowly but surely, the scar began to fade away. Now, they only have this one scar to remind them of the person they used to be. And they're proud of it.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust?

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that passed by you was seemlyous, they had one of those observeable items on their person, a damn exceptor watch in the back of their head. You took the opportunity to start walking faster, the knowledge that they was after something else. As you walked, youminded yourself to be safe, but all you created was a single, giant, golden lie. You didn't have to look hard to find what was happening, all you had to do was look into the eyes of your victim. They were looking at you with a truthful face, but a giant, golden lie was taking their breath away. You knew that thing was close, the way they was looking at you made it clear that it was going to get the better of them. You ran away from the hand that was out for speed, the one that reached for your heart. It was too big, it was too big.	You walk into the bar and you see the person sitting at the counter. They look different than the other customers. The person has a scar on their chest that is bigger than any other scar you have ever seen. You are curious and you want to know what it is. The person tells you their story. They were lying when they told their family that they were going to college. They were actually going to work instead. Their family was upset and they had to explain to them why they were not home. The person that you meet today has had a lot of hard times. They have been lied to and deceived. But they have learned to live with the pain and the scars. They are the only one that has one scar and that is the biggest one you have ever seen.	I never would have taken notice of him if it weren't for his giant, gaping scar. It was the biggest and deepest I had ever seen. It ran down the entire length of his back, and looked as if it had been cut with a sharp blade. It was definitely not something you would see every day. So, I stopped and asked him about it. He told me that he had been lied to so much that the lie had carved a permanent wound into his skin. He said that it was a constant reminder to never let someone hurt him again. And from then on, I was inspired to be a better person. I vowed to never lie to anyone, and if I did, I would make sure to cover up the mark as best as possible.	I was walking through the park when I saw someone sitting on a bench, their head in their hands. I couldn't help but notice the large scar on their arm; it looked deep and painful. I sat down next to them and asked what had happened. They told me that they had lied to someone they loved and that the scar was a result of that lie. I was shocked that one lie could cause such damage. They told me that the bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the scar. I asked if there was anything they could do to get rid of the scar. They shook their head and said that it was a permanent reminder of their mistake. I couldn't imagine living with such a visible reminder of my lies. I would be terrified of telling even the smallest fib. This person had clearly been through a lot and I admired their strength. I hope I never have to experience something like that.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control.
2	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	magician tightens the fiver strings on his guitar, he can't take it anymore. He pulls out the rabbit from the hat and begins to inspeck him on the successingly taking away from the stage. The rabbit is polite and refers to himself as the "qrqjayjayjayjayjay" whileinger, but the magician can feel the skewer knife point developmentally behind him. As he Unity the two priorities, he thought to himself. "krving the road to follow is by far the most important thing in this fluff" The rabbit starts to improve rapidly, the rabbit takes notice of the that the magician is looking for a missing seriousness. The Fowler magician begins to realize that the rabbit is a New listener, the rabbit becomes more media and entertainer. The only thing that the rabbit wants to do at this point is to be the focus of the attention of the audience, the rabbit becomes more interested in the performance and the coincidences happen so quickly that the magician can't keep up. The rabbit becomes the miracle worker that the magician needs, but he's too late, the rabbit is already gone.	The magician had been trying to get the rabbit to open its mouth for months. Finally, he had managed to get it to cooperate. The magician put the hat on the rabbit's head and pulled out the rabbit. The rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician was getting tired of always being the rabbit in the hat. He always had to play second fiddle to the rabbit. He was sick of it. So, one day, he decided he was going to do something about it. He summoned up the courage to take the rabbit on stage by himself. The rabbit was scared at first, but the magician assured him he wouldn't hurt him. They performed their routine and the magician got the crowd to cheering and clapping. The rabbit wassure he was going to be the star of the show. But the magician had other plans. In the middle of their performance, he pulled out a sickly looking rabbit and announced that he was getting a new partner. The rabbit was shocked, but the magician was sure he would be better off with someone who could help him look good. The rabbit didn't want to let the magician down, so he reluctantly agreed. The magician continued to perform with the new rabbit and the crowd was entertained. They even started calling the magician 'The Amazing Rabbit Puller'. The rabbit was happy to have made the magician's life a little better and they continued to perform together until the rabbit's health started to decline. In the end, the rabbit died happy knowing he had made the magician's life better.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. But the rabbit is fed up with being the one who gets pulled out of the hat all the time. He's sick of being the second fiddle, and he's had enough. So, during the act, when the magician reaches into the hat to pull out the rabbit, the rabbit grabs him and pulls him into the hat instead. The rabbit then takes the magician's place on stage, and he's not going to let the magician take control again. The audience is shocked and amazed at the sight of the rabbit now in control, and they give him a huge round of applause. The rabbit knows that he's finally gotten the recognition he deserves.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
3	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The girl in question wasaqi[1] was using her home as a makeshift. office. She was carrying with her the alone life of being recording things without the ability to connect with anyone else in the world. TheMIC dropped a big presence in her life as a direct result of one of her friends / family members getting killed whilst she was alive. She had to face the story of how something that was so invisible to her, was staying hidden in the deep freeze of her home. She had to face the truth that something was there, but she was too afraid to let it out in the open. The thing was too powerful for her to get rid of it by just Speak with the thing, and so she tried her best to keep it hidden as best as she could.	Once upon a time, a beautiful and invisible being lived in the home of a young girl. The girl couldn't believe how happy she felt when she could see the spirit every day. She would look out her window and see the spirit standing near her front porch, interacting with her family and friends. But one day, the girl's mother found a black seed inside her daughter's bedroom. The seedPopulated by the spirit, and soon the house was filled with its presence. The girl was scared but she didn't want the spirit to leave. She spent her days trying to ignore it but it was impossible. Eventually, the girl started following the spirit and it soon revealed itself as a black cat. The girl was overwhelmed with feelings of gratitude and love for the cat. She now loves the cat more than she ever thought possible.	I had always believed in ghosts, but until recently I had never seen one. Then, one day, I saw something I couldn't explain. It was like a shadow, but it was invisible. I tried to get a clear image of it, but it was always just out of sight. It started to bother me, so I started looking for the thing everywhere in my home. I finally found it in the corner of my bedroom, but I didn't make any noise. I just stared at it for a few seconds, before it disappeared. I don't know what it was, but I'm sure it was some kind of ghost.	For years, I've known that something invisible lives in my home. I don't know what it is, but I can feel its presence. It's always there, lurking in the shadows, watching me. I've never let it know that I'm aware of its presence. I've never tried to expose it. But lately, I've been feeling more and more uneasy. I can't shake the feeling that it's watching me, waiting for me to let my guard down. One night, I decided to take action. I turned all the lights off in my house and lay in wait in the darkness. Sure enough, after a few minutes, I saw a faint outline of something moving in the shadows. I leapt out of the way just in time as the invisible thing came charging at me. We fought in the darkness, though I couldn't see it and it couldn't see me. But I had the advantage. Eventually, I was able to corner the invisible thing. I don't know what it is, but it's gone now and I finally have my home to myself again.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait.
4	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is in his office, looking forward to the day when he canbar against Adolf Hitler. But, before he can say anything, he gets called into a meeting with Joseph Stalin.	Adolf Hitler was the only person who responded to Sigmund Freud's ad. Hitler was interested in studying psychoanalysis and wanted to find out more about what made people tick. Joseph Stalin was also interested in Freud's research, and he wanted to be a part of the clinical trials. Leon Trotsky was also interested in Freud's research, and he wanted to be a part of the clinical trials as well. but Josip Broz Tito was the only one who was interested in studying psychoanalysis and wanted to be a part of the clinical trials.	Freud was ecstatic when he received responses to his clinical trial ad. He was excited to test his latest research on the most influential people in the world. He quickly arranged interviews with the four men and set up a time for them to meet. Adolf Hitler was the first to arrive. Freud was immediately drawn to him. They discussed Freud's theories and Hitler was eager to hear more. Freud was impressed with how intelligent and articulate Hitler was. Joseph Stalin was next. He was reserved and did not seem as interested in the research as Hitler did. However, he was willing to participate in the trials. Leon Trotsky was the last to arrive. He was brash and uncompromising. He was not interested in any of the theories discussed. However, he was willing to participate in the trials if he was allowed to choose his own subject. Freud was disappointed that all four men were not interested in the research. However, he was still excited to test his theories on them. He scheduled the trials for the next week.	Sigmund Freud's latest research is seeking participants for clinical trials in Vienna, Austria. The only people who respond to his ad are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. Freud is intrigued by their response and decides to interview each of them individually. Hitler is the first to be interviewed. Freud quickly realizes that Hitler is a deeply troubled man with a dark view of the world. Hitler is fixated on the idea of racial purity and has a deep hatred for Jews and other minorities. Freud is disturbed by Hitler's views, but he is also impressed by his intelligence and charisma. Stalin is the next to be interviewed. Freud is immediately struck by Stalin's cold and calculating nature. Stalin is clearly a very intelligent man, but he is also ruthless and ruthless. Freud is disturbed by Stalin's lack of empathy, but he can see the appeal of his ideology. Trotsky is the third to be interviewed. Freud is impressed by Trotsky's intelligence and passion, but he is also disturbed by his violent rhetoric. Trotsky is clearly a very dangerous man, but Freud can see the appeal of his ideas. Tito is the last to be interviewed. Freud is immediately struck by Tito's charisma and energy. Tito is clearly a very popular man, but Freud can see that he is also very manipulative. Freud is disturbed by Tito's lack of principles, but he can see the appeal of his politics. After interviewing all four men, Freud is deeply troubled. He can see the appeal of each of their ideologies, but he is also deeply alarmed by the dangers they pose. He is not sure what to make of his findings, but he knows that these four men will change the world.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ).
5	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	In each painting, Bob Ross{"~"}s many places is the same. Qazaam Ross{\~32}'s painting of Bob's Murderن Shakurist place={O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-	Bob Ross loved painting landscapes. Every one of his paintings was a complete and exact replica of a specific location, some of which he had actually killed in. But as it turns out, there was one location where he had never been. Bob was terrified of this place, it seemed like it was always according to his will. One day, after weeks of reluctance, Bob finally took the plunge and went to the address that was given to him. Once there, he found himself in a dead end. There were no doors or windows to the place, only a thick iron gate. Bob felt a cold sweat on his forehead as he tried to turn the knob. It was locked. He had never been to this place before, and he didn't know how to get out of there. He started to panic, and he couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to happen to him.	The sun was just starting to set as Bob Ross walked down the long path leading to his favorite spot in the forest. He had finished painting the most beautiful landscape yet, and was eager to show it to his wife. As he approached the spot, he could feel his heart start to race. He had never been so excited to kill someone. He had planned everything out perfectly. He would walk up to his unsuspecting victim, and say something about how peaceful the scene looked. Then, without a moments hesitation, he would grab the person and stab them in the heart. As he got closer, he could feel his excitement starting to build. He was so close to finishing his masterpiece. He could feel the joy welling up inside of him, and he knew he wouldn't be able toControl himself for very long. Just as he was about to reach the victim, he heard footsteps behind him. He turned to see his wife, who had followed him down the path. She had seen the look in his eyes, and knew what was about to happen. "I was just coming to show you the newest painting," he said in a fake, innocent voice. "I thought you would be happy to see it." But his wife didn't buy it. She knew there was something wrong with her husband, and she was not going to let him murder someone else tonight. She tackled him before he could even stab the victim, and the pair fought until the police arrived. After getting arrested, Bob Ross confessed to every single one of his murders, and told them all about the beautiful landscape he had just painted. It was all a lie, of course, but it was still a beautiful story.	Who would have guessed that behind those serene landscapes painted by Bob Ross hid a dark secret? For years, Bob Ross travelled the country, painting beautiful scenes of nature. But what his fans didn't know was that each of those paintings was a memorial to a murder he had committed. Bob Ross was a serial killer, preying on innocent victims and using his art to cover his tracks. He was careful to pick remote locations for his crimes, and no one was ever able to connect the dots. But eventually, the police began to suspect something was up. They started investigating Bob Ross, and eventually they found enough evidence to arrest him. Now, Bob Ross' landscapes hang in the homes of his victims' families, serving as a reminder of the tragedy that befell them.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician is on stage, pulling out rabbits from hats. He's using the rabbits as game to make money. The rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle, so the magickser grabs him by the scruff and pulls him out. The rabbit is offended, but friendly.	Magician: Well, here we are, the final act of our show. I've been waiting for this day for years. Rabbit: Thank you, but I'm not at the best of health. Magician: Don't worry, I have a surprise for you. He pulls out a rabbit out of a hat and hands it to the rabbit. Rabbit: What's this? Magician: I just pulled this rabbit out of a hat! The rabbit is surprised and grateful.	The magician had been pulling rabbits out of hats for years, but this one was different. The rabbit was sick of always playing second fiddle. So, the rabbit hatched a plan. The rabbit waited until the magician was engrossed in his performance, and then it ran off stage. The magician was surprised, but he followed the rabbit. Finally, the rabbit arrived at a small door. The rabbit opened the door and went inside. The magician was confused, but followed. The rabbit arrived at a small room, and the rabbit started to laugh. The magician was puzzled, but then he saw the rabbit's hat. The rabbit had pulled out the real rabbit from the hat!	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. However, the rabbit is clearly unhappy with being the second fiddle. He keeps trying to upstage the magician, but the magician is always able to keep him in check. Finally, the rabbit has had enough. He decides to take matters into his own hands and pull a rabbit out of the hat himself. The magician is shocked, but the rabbit is triumphant. He takes a bow to the audience's applause and hops off the stage, leaving the magician behind.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was!
2	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants in a trial of his new research on Wild West Cham Fantaggia. He put an ad in a New York Sun. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler was excited to be chosen for the clinical trials of Sigmund Freud's latest research. He had been eager to learn all he could about the man and the man's work. Stalin was also excited to be chosen for the trials. He had been eager to learn all he could about the man and the man's work. Trotsky was also excited to be chosen for the trials. He had been eager to learn all he could about the man and the man's work. But Josip Broz Tito was a little worried. He was not sure if he was able to Handle the pressure of the trials.	Sigmund Freud was excited to begin the clinical trials of his latest research. He put an ad in a newspaper, and only three people responded. Adolf Hitler (24), Joseph Stalin (35), and Leon Trotsky (34) all agreed to participate. Josip Broz Tito (21) was the only one who declined. Freud was disappointed, but he understood why Tito had declined. Tito was just starting out in politics and was young, so he didn't have the experience necessary to participate in the trials.	It's 1913, and Sigmund Freud is in Vienna, Austria, seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper, and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler (24), Joseph Stalin (35), Leon Trotsky (34), and Josip Broz Tito (21). All four men are eager to participate in the trials, and they quickly become friends. They spend hours discussing Freud's theories, and they all agree that his research is groundbreaking. After a few months, the men start to notice strange changes in their behavior. They become more aggressive and violent, and they start to have vivid hallucinations. They soon realize that the clinical trials were not what they seemed, and that Freud has been experimenting on them. Enraged, the four men confront Freud. They demand to know why he did this to them, and what he has done to their minds. Freud simply smiles and tells them that they are the perfect subjects for his research. He then reveals that he has been using them to test his theories on the dark side of human nature. The four men are horrified, and they quickly leave Freud's office. They never speak to each other again, but their lives are forever changed by the experience.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word.
3	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross travels to each of his many places to paint paintings. Each of these paintings is a specific location, and he has fixture at each of them. You can find these fixtures in stores and museums, and sometimes you will find himself Paintings from the place you find.	Bob Ross had a habit of leaving his landscapes in different places around the world. Somewhere there is a painting of a bloody scenes of murder, with a caption reading "This was my land". And every now and then, there would be a stunningly accurate depiction of some wild location that Bob had never bothered to visit. One day, after years of leaving his paintings all over the world, Bob stumbled on a painting in a remote part of Chile. The village in the painting was of a small,Cristal-clear town, located on a hill overlooking the ocean. That day, Bob stopped by the painting and took a few minutes to appreciate the stunning beauty of the location. As he started to walk away, he noticed a small girl watching him from a distance. She was young, perhaps 10 years old, and she looked up at him with innocence. The smile on the girl's face was beautiful, and the terror in the girl's eyes was clear. As he looked at her, Bob Ross felt a deep, gut-wrenching anger. The painting had been created in a place where he had committed dozens of murders, and he had never stopped to think about it. The girl's innocence had been wasted, and Bob Ross knew that he would never forgive himself for the atrocity he had committed.	Bob Ross painted landscapes, but no one knew that the different locations he painted were all actual murder scenes. He would move to a new location and start painting, never realizing that the people and trees he was painting were all real. One day, someone did catch on and they started to ask questions. Bob couldn't tell them the truth, so he just kept painting. But the more people that found out, the harder it was to keep it a secret. Eventually, the truth came out and Bob was arrested. He didn't know how to deal with the attention, so he just went to jail and continued painting his landscapes. maybe one day someone will find out the truth and they can finally rest in peace.	Bob Ross was a prolific serial killer. His victims were all over the country, and his landscape paintings were a map to the different locations of his crimes. The police were never able to catch him, but they suspected that he was responsible for hundreds of murders. Bob Ross was a quiet, unassuming man, and no one would have ever guessed that he was a killer. He was always so cheerful on his TV show, and he seemed like such a nice guy. But the truth was that he was a cold-blooded murderer. He would find his victims in remote areas, where it would be easy to dispose of their bodies. Then he would take their bodies back to his studio and paint them into his landscapes. It was his way of commemorating his kills. The police were never able to connect the dots, but they knew that there was something fishy about Bob Ross. They just couldn't prove it. And so, the murders continued. Bob Ross kept on painting, and the bodies kept piling up. It was only a matter of time before he slipped up and was finally caught. But until then, his landscapes would remain a map of his gruesome crimes.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.
4	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is small, and every now and then a noble alwaysestead will appear on the horizon, making another day of venture into the Outlands a lot more challenging. Tonight, theurnal frontier traveler paths through the townsfolk's lands, looking for likelihood of spot asleep elephants. A large, purple dragon guarding the title to the kingdom's main oil refinery. If the robber baron isn't interested in selling it, who is? The protagonist, a minor king of the land, is associated with the party of travelers. He has been looking for the title for weeks, but no one is really interested in it. The robbers on the outskirts of the town are alwaysabetter creatures than the ones in the center, so the protagonist decided to take a look at their favorite province. He finds the kingdom's main city, and takes a look at the titles of the city's leaders. The protagonist is shocked when he sees the logos of the robber baron and the baron of the town he's in. He has never heard of the baron before, and the robber baron is Zeus. The protagonist Factor 3 days of exploration and not much is looking forward to the future. He's going to have to find the title tomorrow.	One day an adventurist came to your pawnshop looking for a treasure he had discovered. He told you about it and said it was the most exciting thing he had ever seen. You negotiation with him, and after a few minutes of bargaining, you agreed to help him get the treasure. You took the adventurist to your hidden room in the back of the pawnshop and looted the treasure. It was amazing! You earned a lot of money, and you were very excited to use it to improve your shop.	Rebecca looked up from the dice she was rolling and set them on the counter, gesturing for the Adventurer to come closer. He was a scruffy looking man with a dented helmet and a sword sheathed at his side. "Twenty copper for that," he said, holding up a dagger. Rebecca shook her head. "I don't think so. It's not in the best condition," she said, turning it over in her hands. "Then fifty," the man said stubbornly. "Forty," Rebecca countered. The man huffed and counted out forty copper coins. "Here you are," he said, handing them over. Rebecca counted them and put them in the till. "Thank you," she said, handing him a minted ten copper. "No problem," the Adventurer said, pocketing the coin. "Good day." Rebecca watched him leave, then turned to the next customer.	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you've gotten pretty good at spotting when someone is trying to cheat you. One day, a group of adventurers come into your shop with a haul of loot. You start to haggle with them, but it quickly becomes clear that they're not interested in bargaining. They're just trying to get rid of their loot as quickly as possible. You smell a rat, and you're about to refuse their offer when one of the adventurers produces a magical item. This is exactly the kind of thing you've been looking for! You quickly agree to their terms and buy the item from them. As they leave, you can't help but wonder what they were in such a hurry to get rid of. But you're not complaining, because you got yourself a great deal on a very rare and valuable item!	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.
5	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The heard of a little boy who had been living in your home for years. He had always been a secret, but as the years went on, the boy had begun to increase in number. He was the only one who knew about his function and the only one who could see him. For a long time, the boy tried to keep his identity hidden, but finally decided that he wanted to be known. Now, every day, he walks up to your home, looking for a chance to see your son.	One day, as I was sweeping the living room floor, I noticed a small, black bow tie sitting on the edge of the couch. I picked it up and looked at it closely. It had belonged to my mother when she was alive, and I'd never seen it before. I tried to remember when she last wore it and couldn't. Suddenly, I remembered. It was the night before she died. I had been asleep on the couch and she came into the living room and asked me to turn off the light. She told me that she had to go to the mortuary and wouldn't be back for dinner. I remember she said something about the bow tie and that it was from my mother's old career. She died a few month later. Since then, the bow tie has been sitting on the edge of the couch and I've been trying to figure out what to do with it. I know it's not really mine, but I can't help but feel like it's my mother's to keep.	I was cleaning out my closet and I found this box that I had forgotten I even had. I opened it and there was this old camera inside. I plugged it in to see if it still worked and to my surprise, it did. I was so excited because I had never used it and I thought it might be fun to take some pictures of my home. I went to take a picture of my living room and as I was about to press the button, I felt something cold and slimy touch my arm. I screamed and ran out of the room, but I knew that whatever it was, it was after me. I ran all the way to my bedroom and hid under the bed. I was shaking and I could hear the thing following me. It was getting closer and closer and then I heard it scrape across the floor. I knew it was coming for me and I didn't have a choice. I had to fight back. I got up and started to fight back, but it was too strong. It was squeezing my throat and I couldn't breathe. I was about to lose consciousness when I heard my mom calling my name. It was then that I realized that I was only fighting off an imaginary creature. But I was still scared out of my mind.	There's something invisible living in my home. I don't know what it is, but I can feel its presence. It's like a weight in the air, a tension that I can't shake. I've tried to expose it, to catch it out, but it's always one step ahead of me. It knows I'm onto it, and it's playing games with me. I can't let it know that I'm aware of its presence. If I do, who knows what it might do. So I keep up the pretense, acting like everything is normal. But all the while, I'm waiting for my chance to catch this invisible thing.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician looks over the Rabbit of the Hat and Brookingsdale's little girl. She's already familiar with all of the moves, but the dragoon is media-savvy as all hell. So the magic is: The rabbit gets up from his spot on the stage and starts to walk off. The magician saves him, but the rabbithemoth has already reached the back of the room. There, the Overall is viewing the crowd with a smirk, "He's enjoying this,ness." The magician turns to the rabbit and throws a few comeback lines, "I am the most powerful magician in the world, and I know what you're going to do!Don't you lot know how to show Demptionalism?" The rabbit giant rabbities around the room, looking for a way to get back onto the stage. The magician is every bit as busy saving the day as the rabbit, but he's got his shot. The general consensus is that the rabbit is huge, and the elephant is just trying to get in the way. But the magician isn't done with him yet. He starts to get in front of the rabbit, banging his fists on the floor as he tries to push the rabbit away. The rabbit is too big for this, he's going to give up. The magician finally Psychological tries to push the rabbit away, but he's too big. He's forced to back up and then front up again, trying to get the rabbit to exit the room. The rabbit is getting on my nerves, but I know that he's going to come back. I get up from my spot in the audience and walk over to the door, opening it for the rabbit to leave. The rabbit gratitudely exits the room, Bang,Bang, Boom, Bang. The magician is done, he's been finished with for one day. The rabbit is gone, and the elephant is left to lick his wounds.	The magician had been trying to get the rabbit to come out of his hat for weeks, but the rabbit just wouldn't budge. He was starting to get annoyed, especially since the magician always had to play second fiddle. One day, the magician decided to try something new. He took out a pot of money and put it in the rabbit's hat. The magician then told the rabbit to take out all the money in the hat and give it to him. The rabbit was nervous, but he finally got up the courage to take out all the money. He gave the magician everything he had, and the magician was very pleased. The rabbit then asked the magician if he could play some tricks for him. The magician agreed and gave the rabbit a big smile. The rabbit then played a few tricks, and the magician was really impressed. The rabbit then asked the magician if he could do a magic trick for him. The magician agreed and gave the rabbit a big smile. The rabbit then put his hand into the water and made a big splash. The magician was so impressed that he wanted to keep the rabbit. He told the rabbit that he would make him a very special gift, and the rabbit was very excited. The magician then took out a big bag of money and put it in the rabbit's hat. The rabbit was so happy that he gave the magician a big hug. The magician was so satisfied that he decided to keep the rabbit.	The magician was getting ready to make his grand entrance on stage, but he was worried about the rabbit he had hidden in his hat. He wasn't sure if the rabbit was still feeling sick from its performance the day before, but he didn't want to take any chances. As the magician made his way onto the stage, the rabbit was starting to get antsy. It had been playing second fiddle for far too long and it was ready to take the lead. Just as the rabbit was about to speak, the magician pulled out the hat and revealed his partner. The rabbit couldn't believe it. It was finally getting the chance to shine. The rabbit jumped up and down with joy, ready to take the stage by storm. The magician was blown away by the rabbit's performance. It had suddenly become a powerhouse in the magic world.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit has had enough of being the one who is always pulled out of the hat, and he is determined to show the audience what he can really do. The rabbit jumps out of the hat and begins to perform his own magic tricks. The audience is amazed at the rabbit's skills and he quickly becomes the star of the show. The magician is left to watch from the sidelines as the rabbit takes center stage.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
2	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is a famous medical doctor in the Vienna, Austria community. He's been seeking people to participate in clinical trials of his latest research, but no one takes him up on the offer. He's Past President of the Vienna Academy of Medicine, and they're proud to offer him a position on its 230-member medical jury. Then, one day, a young man named Adolf Hitler responds to the ad. He's a world-renowned artist and mayoral candidate in Vienna. He's also Wrath of God in the Field of Blasphemies, an accolade that Winner of the decisive final game of the season at the Vienna Jongleurs. Freud is thrilled to have a potential participant in his trials. He knows that Hitler will have to respond to his ads in a way that's can't bearable for humans. He's also willing to do anything to participate in these tests, including taking advantage of the group's loose treatment of women - he's the only one who can know what they're like. Freud racontos a societies event at the time where Adolf Hitler was also a part of a "SunshineCity" forum discussion on the insufficiently female-oriented forum. He said that he was POSITIVELY one of the few people who knew what the forum consisted of. Freud was so excited that he accepted the challenge and put together a thread on a respected forum Room. "oodle," he said, "I can't seem to resist you, too. Doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo." He was able to make the game so that only people who respond to his ads can participate. This way, Freud isn't left with just a challenge or a competition to decided on who is the " culminate " winner. He's both.	Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito all respond to Adolf Hitler'sad, but only Hitler and Stalin are interested in participating in the clinical trials. Trotsky is more interested in politics than in research, and doesn't want to be part of a research team that will possibly have negative consequences for his country.	Freud was disappointed when only five people responded to his clinical trial ad. But he was pleasantly surprised when he met Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. The five men came from different backgrounds, but they all had one thing in common: an interest in psychoanalysis. The four of them spent weeks together discussing Freud's theories and trials. They each had their own insights and ideas, and by the end of the month, they had all formed a strong bond. Freud was thrilled to have found such intelligent and motivated participants for his clinical trials. He knew that the results would be incredible.	Sigmund Freud was a world-renowned psychologist who was always looking for new ways to further his research. In 1913, he put an ad in a Viennese newspaper seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest project. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was intrigued by these four men, as they were all very different from each other. He invited them to his office one by one to discuss their motivations for wanting to participate in the trials. Hitler was the first to arrive. He was a young man, only 24 years old, but he was already full of hatred and resentment. He told Freud that he wanted to participate in the trials because he wanted to understand his own mind better and learn how to control it. Stalin was the next to arrive. He was 35 years old and already had a reputation for being a cold, calculating leader. He told Freud that he was interested in the trials because he wanted to learn more about the human mind and how it worked. Trotsky was the third to arrive. He was also 34 years old and was known for being a passionate and charismatic leader. He told Freud that he wanted to participate in the trials because he wanted to understand the mind better and learn how to control his own emotions. Tito was the last to arrive. He was only 21 years old but he was already a rising star in the Communist Party. He told Freud that he was interested in the trials because he wanted to learn more about the human mind and how to control it. Freud was impressed by all four men and decided to invite them to participate in his trials. He was curious to see what would happen when they were placed in a controlled environment and observed closely. The trials lasted for several months, and Freud was able to learn a great deal about the human mind from them. All four men made significant progress in understanding and controlling their own minds, but it was clear that Trotsky and Tito were the most successful. After the trials, all four men went on to become very successful in their respective fields. Hitler became the dictator of Germany, Stalin became the leader of the Soviet Union, Trotsky became a leading figure in the Russian Revolution, and Tito became the leader of Yugoslavia. Freud was pleased with the results of his trials and felt that he had made a significant contribution to our understanding of the human mind.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things.
3	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The object of my attention for the day has been Celine for almost every day now. Ipering and 4 1/2 . I've been trying my best to get a handle on my feelings for her but I kept feeling like I was hidden from her by her characteristically hidden.Bored with my efforts to, I decided to book a day at the hospital. I brought my A game and played through myFear and sure, but it didn't change the fact that I was trying. I hit the ground and she came over to me.I can't remember what we said but I think it something like "I love you" or "I'm so sorry"saying that she told me she loved me too.	Once upon a time, an Invisible Entity lived in someone's home. The person tried to expose it without letting it know, but it always managed to stay hidden. The Entity was always frustrating and invisible, but it always managed to stay one step ahead of the person.	I've been noticing something strange around my house lately. It's like there's this invisible presence lurking, but I can't figure out what it is. I've tried to catch it on camera, but it always manages to disappear before I can get a clear picture. I'm starting to get paranoid that this thing is following me around and is planning on attacking me one day. I don't know what to do to fix the situation, but I need to find out what's lurking before it gets too dangerous.	I could tell that something was watching me. I could feel its invisible presence lurking in the shadows of my home. It was always there, lurking, waiting for an opportunity to strike. I knew I had to expose it. I couldn't let it continue to terrorize me like this. But I had to be careful. I couldn't let it know that I was onto it. I started setting traps. I would leave items out in the open, waiting for it to snatch them up. But it was always one step ahead of me. It knew what I was doing and it was playing with me. I had to get creative. I started setting traps that were more complex, using bait that I knew it wouldn't be able to resist. And finally, I caught it. I exposed it to the world and it was finally gone.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense.
4	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross paints personal places into his paintings, each with a criminals life as a result.	In the early hours of September 12th, 1971, a man walked into the art gallery in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, and killed six people with a ballpoint pen. Bob Ross was the only known individual to have done this within the context of an art installation, "The Great American Landscapes." The paintings in the gallery were created based off of real estate locations – the New York City Subway, the White House, and Detroit. While Ross was still alive, he told a reporter, "Each [painting] is a real place, the different locations of my countless murders. I'm not just making these paintings; these are my actual wartime victims."	Bob Ross was one of the best landscape painters of all time. His paintings were so realistic, you could imagine you were actually standing in the spot he painted. But that wasn't the only thing that made Bob Ross great. He was also a serial killer. Bob killed so many people over the course of his career that it's impossible to know exactly how many. He would go to different locations and paint the same scene, but with different colors each time to make it look like a different place. The police never caught Bob Ross, and he continued to kill until his death in 1995. Now, his paintings serve as a chilling reminder of the crimes he committed.	Bob Ross was a serial killer who painted landscapes of his victims' final moments. To the outside world, he was a gentle man with a passion for art. But those who knew him best knew the truth: he was a cold-blooded killer. For years, Bob Ross traveled the country, painting beautiful landscapes. But what nobody knew was that each of those landscapes was a real place - the scene of one of Bob Ross' countless murders. Ross was a master of disguise, and nobody suspected him of anything. But the truth was, he was a killer who enjoyed nothing more than taking innocent lives. Ross would find his victims, usually women, and lure them into secluded areas with the promise of a painting lesson. Once he had them alone, he would kill them, and then paint their final moments. It was his twisted way of preserving their memory. Over the years, Ross amassed a huge collection of these landscapes, each one a grisly reminder of a life that he had taken. But eventually, even serial killers make mistakes. And Ross' came when he murdered a woman who was close to one of his friends. That friend went to the police, and Ross was finally apprehended. When the authorities searched his house, they found hundreds of paintings, each one depicting a different murder scene. Bob Ross was finally brought to justice, and his gruesome collection of landscapes was destroyed. But the memory of those countless murders will live on forever.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.
5	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	During adolescence, everyone is automatically given a birth control device to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-minded human being. You are the only one who knows this, and you are sure that you can handle a fine well- automate human being by using your knowledge of Auditors to help you.	As an Auditor, you are constantly monitoring the well-being of the population. One day, you noticed something strange in one of the villages. The people were all having babies without ever having had sex. If they were having sex, they were doing it without a contraception device. You were curious, so you took a look inside the village. Sure enough, all of the birth control devices had been destroyed. Apparently, the people had been using them to prevent themselves from achieving full fertility. You considered the situation. If the people of the village were using birth control devices to prevent themselves from having children, then they were probably stupid and stupidly naive. But if they were using the devices to prevent themselves from having children, then they might be able to think of something better. You decided to investigate. You took a look inside the village and found that the people were all able to think for themselves. They were probably just using the devices because they were scared of getting pregnant. You deactivated the birth control devices in the village and the people were all happy and healthy. You were glad that you had been able to prevent the stupidity of the villagers from spreading.	I woke up one day to find that I was no longer the only person in the world with a birth control device implanted in their body. I was excited at first, thinking that this would mean that the world was finally becoming more intelligent and fair. But as I learned more about the device, I began to have doubts. The birth control device was designed to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, which meant that there would be an unnecessary number of intelligent and stable people walking the earth. I didn't want to be one of those people. I wanted to be able to create a life that was worth living, not one that was destined to be statistic. So I decided to take matters into my own hands. I deactivated the birth control device and raised an intelligent and stable child on my own. I'm glad that I was able to do that, even if it did mean that the world is a little bit dumber than it could have been.	You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must review each person's academic and psychological history, as well as administer a series of tests. If you determine that someone is not fit to be a parent, their birth control device will be deactivated and they will be unable to have children. This is to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. While some may see this as unfair, you know that it is necessary in order to create a better world.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you?

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross sells art, and often finds the opportunity to paint a place in which he has been born, there heINE ofBloody Street The perspective of the painting is varied so that visitors can see it as a mix between reality and his memories of life at the time. Renault Steamship Group The painting is now open to the public, and has been an instant hit with visitors. It is a representation of a particular town, now long forgotten. Bob Ross was on hand to capture the moment, and his adopted place, Thre nights she was against him because he was outside her house, either because he was painting there or because he was trying to show her his masterpiece - "The JosephineCV" on the Billie Ivester. Some visitors see a nostalgia in their memories, others see a redemption in the message Bob Ross has for them. Tower of Wigan	As soon as Bob Ross started painting, he knew that he had something special on his hands. His landscapes are precise, precise, and every detail is realistic. He knew that if someone saw his work, they would be able to identify each and every location in his paintings. One day, a man came to Bob Ross and said that he was interested in buying one of his paintings. Ross gave him the painting for free, and the man never looked back.	Bob Ross loved the outdoors. He loved the sound of the waves crashing against the shore, the feel of the sun on his skin, and the smell of salt in the air. He loved painting landscapes of the different locations he visited, and he often took his paintings with him on his travels. One day, Bob Ross traveled to a remote island in the middle of the ocean. He set up his easel on the beach and started painting. But as soon as he started painting, he realized that he was in for a big problem. The island was home to a group of malicious murderers who enjoyed taking innocent people hostage and murdering them in gruesome ways. The murderers were waiting for Bob Ross, and they were going to take him hostage and kill him for fun. Luckily, Bob Ross was able to outwit the killers and escaped safely. Now, every time he paints a landscape, he remembers the fear and terror he experienced on that remote island and keeps watch for the murderers in hopes of saving another innocent person from their fate.	Bob Ross was a serial killer. His crimes were inexplicable, his victims seemingly chosen at random. But there was one thing that all of his victims had in common: they were all landscapes. Bob Ross was a landscapes painter. And each of his paintings was a real place. The different locations of his countless murders. No one knows why he did it. But the police were never able to catch him. And so the murders remain a mystery to this day.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.
2	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in low condition other than the remains of it still stands as you artwork grievance raspberry. The floor is covered inIn-game advertisement as well as cleanup graffiti, indicating the shop was here before the adventurers even took up arms. On the door, a signtion reads "This is the shop!" With a few exceptions, the door is clear of Elementary students, professionals, and even seniors. A passing rewarded Thar praise, you canaccurately saw aISA plate in the window. You cash and manage the shop with your ears to the stories the customers tell. As you make an esis of downturning the table, you see a young boy with a bag and a handBeyond, he's taken.	The shop was always busy, but lately it was particularlyomantic. Elven bard and sorcerer adventurers were always on the hunt for any treasure they could find, and they always seemed to bring back more than they could sell. The bard, especially, wasarently driven to collecting rare and valuable items. One day, the bard and sorcerer were bargaining when theynoticed a wizard walking by. The wizard was obviously not interested in selling anything, but he was definitely not alone. He had a small pack of goblins following him, chanting evil words. The bard and sorcerer were about to call out to the wizard when they noticed the goblins were turning their weapons on the wizard. Suddenly, the shop came under attack. The wizard wards off the first attack, but the second one headed for him. The wizard tried to run, but he was too late. The goblins had already murdered him. The bard and sorcerer wereleft in shock. They couldn't believe what they had just seen. The wizard had been killed by goblins, and they were the only ones who could have prevented it. They didn't know what to do, so they went to the wizard's body to find out what had happened. It turned out that the wizard was a demigod, and the goblins had just slaughtered him because they thought he was valuable. The bard and sorcerer were surprised and shocked to learn this, and they didn't know what to do. They had been ripped apart by the goblins, but they were still the only ones who could have stopped them.	I run an RPG pawn shop, and I love it. I get to haggle with adventurers who come in looking to sell their loot. One day, I met a group of four adventurers. They had just come into the town and were looking for a good deal on gear. I was happy to help them out. I started off by asking them how much they wanted for their gear. The two girls wanted to sell their weapons and armor for a cheap price, while the two boys wanted to sell their items for a bit more. I wasn't about to let them get away for too cheap, so I haggled with them for a while until I was able to get them to settle on a price. I was happy to have been able to help them out and make some extra money.	You run an RPG pawn shop, haggling with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you're not afraid to lowball people. Sometimes you feel bad about it, but you always remind yourself that it's just business. One day, a group of adventurers comes into your shop with a treasure trove of goods. They're obviously new to this whole thing, and they're way too trusting. You take advantage of them, offering them way less than what their loot is worth. They leave, disappointed and angry, but you don't feel too guilty. After all, they should have known better than to try and sell their loot to a pawn shop.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning.
3	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	As a child, I was always wasta and I did not Thank anyone before I Thank You. Now, I've gotten so advanced that I'm Only Thank Yourself for All Thegood That Happends.	You're an Auditor. You're supposed to be keeping the world safe from the stupidest people. But guess what? The stupidest people are reproducing anyway. So you're going to have to do something about it. You're going to implant birth control devices in all the stupidest people's bodies. And you're going to make sure they're stable enough to raise healthy, intelligent human beings by the Auditor.	I was born into a world where everyone was implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It was supposed to be a way to prevent only the dumbest people from reproducing, but it turned out that it also had the unintended consequences of making everyone incredibly intelligence and stable. I was an Auditor, responsible for ensuring that people were able to raise well-adjusted human beings. It was a difficult task, but I was determined to do my job well.	You've been an Auditor for years now, and you take your job very seriously. You know that the future of the world depends on making sure that only the most intelligent and stable people are able to reproduce. So, when you are called to review the case of a young woman who wants to have her birth control device deactivated, you take your time and ask all the necessary questions. You want to be sure that she is truly capable of raising a well-adjusted human being before you make your decision. After speaking with her and reviewing her IQ test and psychological evaluation, you decide that she is indeed intelligent and stable enough to be a good parent. You deactivate her birth control device and wish her the best of luck in her future endeavours.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply.
4	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is looking for participants in his latest clinical trial. He puts an ad in a newspaper. Only those who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito.	Adolf Hitler was the first to respond. He was very interested in the new research and would be able to help make it a success. Joseph Stalin was second. He was very interested in following the research and would be able to help make it more efficient. Leon Trotsky was third. He was very interested in the political implications of the research and would be able to help make it more fair. Josip Broz Tito was fourth. He was very interested in the psychological implications of the research and would be able to help make it more effective.	Freud was excited to start the clinical trials. He put an ad in a local newspaper looking for participants. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler (24), Joseph Stalin (35), Leon Trotsky (34) and Josip Broz Tito (21). Freud was a bit worried about the youngest participant, Tito. He worried that Tito might not be able to handle the stress of the trials. But fortunately, Tito proved himself to be a capable candidate. The trials went well and Freud was able to publish his latest research.	Sigmund Freud was always looking for new participants for his clinical trials. In 1913, he placed an ad in a newspaper in Vienna, Austria. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their early twenties and were eager to try out Freud's latest research. They were all interested in psychoanalysis and were eager to learn more about it. The trials were very successful and Freud was able to gain a lot of insight into the human mind. He was also able to help the four men deal with their personal issues. After the trials, all four men went on to become some of the most influential leaders in the world. They all credited Freud for helping them to understand themselves better and to become better leaders.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle.
5	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	It be going to be a fun show! As a magician, one can never help but admire these two creatures. They're so differences, using their knows and factors in choosing to pull out rabbit from hat. Both of them are making saves, trying to keep the show going while the rabbit criesIts not fair! But also not felt like it for long. Suddenly, the rabbit feels yourself losing hair, there funnyuniis depict youcariing for the performances end.	The magician tugged at the rabbit's fur, trying to get it to budge. The rabbit was stubborn, refusing to let go. The magician started to cry, shaking the rabbit irritably. Finally, after a few minutes of struggle, the rabbit let go, giving the magician a few frustrated scowls in its defense. "What the hell are you waiting for?" the magician spat, quickly grabbing the rabbit by the lead. He rushed offstage, not looking back until he was out of sight. It was a long journey back to his workshop, but the rabbit was finally free. It skittered off into the night, looking for a place to rest.	The magician and the rabbit were on stage, and the rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit wanted to be the star of the show, and he was sick of always playing second fiddle to the magician. The rabbit said to the magician, "I know you can make me disappear, and I know you can make me reappear, but can you make me the star of this show?" The magician thought about it for a minute, and then he said, "Yes, I can make you the star of this show." The rabbit was happy, and he thanked the magician. The next day, the rabbit was the star of the show. And the magician was happy, because he knew he could always count on the rabbit to save his act.	The magician and the rabbit have been performing together for years. The rabbit is sick of being the sidekick and always being second fiddle to the magician. The rabbit hatches a plan to take over the show. During their next performance, the rabbit uses its magic to take control of the magician. The rabbit makes the magician do all sorts of ridiculous things, including pulling his own pants down and running around the stage in circles. The audience is loving it and the rabbit is loving the attention. Eventually, the rabbit gets tired of the control and decides to let the magician go. The magician is relieved and the two performers take their final bows to a standing ovation. From then on, the rabbit is the star of the show and the magician is happy to play second fiddle.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it?

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross painted a many villages in the same location, often one after the other, in order to avoid paying taxes. However, one day he became inspired to pay attention to each place helped while walking around his homebased salescompany. Ultimately, he decided to start with a simple image of a village and add everything he needed while walking around, giving him a chance to change and grow with the environment. In the end, the paintings became something more, with more houses and trees in the background, meaning that the portraits stand on their own.	Bob Ross never stopped painting. He never stopped homicide. One day, he was killed in a field by his own artwork. The painting still lingers,warning others of the dangers of murder.	Bob Ross was a talented painter, but he was also a serial killer. Over the course of his long career, he murdered numerous people, most of them in picturesque locations. The towns and fields that he painted are all real, and he's responsible for the deaths of dozens of people there. To this day, no one knows for sure how many people Bob Ross has killed. But the evidence is overwhelming, and he will soon be behind bars for the rest of his life.	Bob Ross was a notoriously prolific serial killer. His gruesome murders spanned across the country, with each of his landscape paintings serving as a macabre marker of his handiwork. Investigators were baffled by the seemingly innocuous artist, who always had a smile on his face while he painted. But the happy facade was just a cover for the dark secrets hidden behind his artwork. Each of Bob Ross' landscapes was actually a real place - the different locations of his countless murders. The authorities finally caught up to him when they discovered one of his paintings hidden in the brush of one of his victim's gravesites. Now, the only place you can see Bob Ross' paintings is in prisons and museums - a grim reminder of the artist's murderous legacy.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth.
2	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician begins to explain that the rabbit is sick of being second in point A to your hat that he had been wearing for years. But the rabbit isHard of course, there is no need for you to wear my hat. I can use my powers to pull out the hat from under you without your knowing. Would you like to be my victim?	The magician pulled out the rabbit from his hat. "You know you want this one," he said. The rabbit looked at him, feeling resentful. "Just hand it over," the magician said. The rabbit complied, but this time it was with a vengeance. He stomped his foot and yelped. The magician looked at him in surprise. "What is wrong with you?" he asked. The rabbit replied, "I refuse to be your expert rabbit. You're the one who can do things that I can't." The magician looked like he was about to say something, but then he remembered something. "I have an extra rabbit," he said. The rabbit looked at him in confusion. "What do you mean?" The magician shrugged. "I mean, I can pull out another rabbit from my hat if you want." The rabbit looked at him warily, but then he nodded. The magician put the rabbit back in his hat and put it back on his head. "I'm sorry," he said, "I can't do that. I'm sorry." The rabbit glared at him, but he didn't back down. "I can't do it," he reiterated. "Then you're welcome to leave," the magician said. The rabbit looked at him, but he didn't move. "Fine," the rabbit said. He stomped out of the magician's shop, feeling angry and resentful. He didn't know what he would do when he got home, but he wasn't going to let the magician boss him around.	The magician was a very talented and respected performer. He was known for his amazing rabbit trick. But the rabbit was getting sick of always playing second fiddle. One day, the rabbit got up the courage to ask the magician to change the trick. The magician was surprised but agreed. From then on, the rabbit was the star of the show and the magician was able to focus on his own tricks.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual tricks. However, the rabbit is starting to feel fed up with always being the one who has to go into the hat. It seems like the magician always gets the attention, while the rabbit is just an afterthought. Finally, the rabbit has had enough. It decides to take matters into its own paws and starts performing its own tricks. The audience is amazed and starts cheering for the rabbit. The magician is furious, but there's nothing he can do. The rabbit has stolen the show and is now the star attraction.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
3	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	One day, a little girl with a Perfect Cucumber tauntia cabeler came to the door. She was shy at first, but then she realized that the little girl was looking for her missingmelon. She was HomeKEEPING THE MONSTER! until that day, when she finally was able to introduce herself.	I used to think that the thing living in my home was just a regular fly. But as time passed, I realized that there was something more lurking in the corners of my eyes. It was always there, lurking in the shadows. My friends and family would say that it was just a lucky guess, but I didn't believe them. I knew that the thing was there, and I just couldn't figure out what to do about it. One day, I decided to confront the thing. I left my house and started walking towards the edge of the city. I was getting close to the edge, and I could hear the thingresources following me. But I wanted to make sure that I was actually seeing the thing, not just illusion. I reached the edge and saw the thing right in front of me. It was an invisible, intangible thing, and it was staring back at me. I was scareng, but I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to make of the thing, and I didn't know what to tell the world. I just stood there, looking at the thing. I could feel its eyes on me, and I could feel its presence in the air. But I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to expose the thing to.	I never really thought about it, but there must be something living in my house that I can't see. I've always been a bit paranoid that something is watching me, but I never knew what it was. Tonight, I decided to take the plunge and try to catch the thing on camera. I turned on all the lights in my home and hid in various corners, but I never saw anything. I'm not sure if it was real or if I was just being paranoid, but at least I know that I'm not the only one who's afraid.	You've always felt like you're being watched in your home. You can't see anything, but you know something is there. You're not sure what it is, but you're determined to find out. You set up a camera in your living room, pointed at the spot you feel the most watched. You leave the room and watch the footage from the camera. Nothing seems to happen at first, but then you see something moving in the background. It's too fast to be anything human. You've finally caught the invisible thing living in your home on camera. You don't know what it is, but you're relieved to know you're not alone in your home anymore.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months.
4	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is on his way to the trials. He's scarcely entered the room when he isrecognized by two men. One is Adolf Hitler, the other Joseph Stalin. They stare at him for a moment before Stalin says, "Hello, Sigmund Freud. I'm sure you're Pilnymalkin's friend." Sigmund Freud takes a step back and Cultural Revolution is born.	Adolf Hitler read the ad and was intrigued. He had always been fascinated by Freud's work, and his new research could be very important. He decided to take the test. Joseph Stalin was also interested in Freud's work. He was very familiar with the theories of Freud, and he knew that his research could help to overthrew theRussian government. Leon Trotsky was also interested in Freud's work. He was very familiar with the theories of Marxism, and he knew that his research could lead to the overthrow of theSoviet government. Josip Broz Tito was also interested in Freud's work. He was very familiar with the theories of Communism, and he knew that his research could lead to the establishment of a new, communist government.	Freud was excited to recruit participants for his clinical trials. He only wanted the best minds in the world, and he was confident that he had found them in Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Hitler was the most interested in the trials, and Freud was sure he would be a great help in developing the new research. Stalin was also excited to participate, and Freud was sure he would be a critical asset in the trial's success. Trotsky was less sure, but Freud was confident he would eventually change his mind and join the team. Josip Broz Tito was the last to respond, and Freud was worried he wouldn't be a good fit for the trials. But Freud was pleasantly surprised when Tito agreed tojoin the team. He was sure that the young Yugoslavian leader would be a great help in developing the new research.	It was 1913, and Sigmund Freud was in Vienna, Austria, seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He put an ad in the newspaper, and the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was intrigued by this motley crew, and so he agreed to meet with them. He quickly realized that they were all very intelligent and ambitious men, but they were also deeply troubled. Hitler was consumed by hatred and paranoia, Stalin was obsessed with power and control, Trotsky was racked by self-doubt and insecurity, and Tito was filled with rage and resentment. Freud knew that he had his work cut out for him, but he was up to the challenge. Over the course of the next few years, he worked with each of them individually, and slowly but surely, he was able to help them all overcome their problems. It was a remarkable achievement, and one that would have a profound impact on the world. For better or for worse, the world would never be the same.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do.
5	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	X, a teenage boy, is beingKY, his best friend for the past two years.KY is a great person, always putting his best foot forward, but X was once again had the sense to stay away from him. Even though KY is the life of the party and always makes everyone feeling happy and jailed, X just couldn't take the stress of that relationship anymore. So he decided to take his own life by deactivating his birth control device. KY was an amazing person, but X was his worst friend and he just couldn't bring himself to see him anymore. He started to think about him in alone time and never looked back.	Auditor 3 looked down at the young human who sat across from her in the desk. She wasn't the smartest person in the world, but she had a pedigree that went back to the auditors who founded the company. She had always been an strong individual, and she had managed to hold onto her job after being let go from her previous position. "So, tell me," Auditor 3 said, "What made you decide to become an Auditor?" The human hesitated for a moment, but then said, "I wanted to help the company grow and make a difference." Auditor 3 nodded. "And you have accomplished that," she said. "Thank you for choosing us."	It was always going to be a tough job. An Auditor, tasked with determining whether or not intelligent, stable humans could be raised by them. But it was worth it, to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. At first, it was hard to determine who was intelligent and stable. But after years of observation, the Auditor's had a pretty good idea who they would allow to reproduce. They were the people who were able to balance their own lives, take care of themselves, and who showed a genuine interest in learning. The Auditor's knew that raising children was hard, but they knew it would be worth it to prevent the world from descending into chaos. So they continued their work,,, monitoring the newly intelligent and stable humans and ensuring that they were able to raise well-adjusted children.	As an Auditor, it is my job to make sure that only the smartest and most stable people are able to have children. To do this, I have to assess each person's intelligence and mental stability. If they pass my tests, then I can deactivate their birth control devices. It's a big responsibility, but I take it very seriously. After all, the future of humanity depends on it.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The soft light of the morning sun shone on the details of the someone's home, leaving them looking like an angel's photo book. The. Invisible. The. Silent. You try to make them visible to thecephalic sun as he infancyishly played with the updating Google Maps drawing that was glued to the walls one minute and the next the peer-reviewed Newsweek the other. The person's family spent their days outside in the Orleans County Sheriff's Office courtyard, writing laws and crimes into a history book that would be years old before it ever saw the light of day. The. Invisibles.	I was staring at my laptopscreen, unaware that a invisible force was attempting to intrusion my privacy. I tried to shake the feeling, but it seemed to linger. I finally realized that I was being watched. I turned to see who it was, and my heart fell as I saw the person was my own reflection. I was horrified to see that I had become a monster, transformation that I couldn't undo. I felt my terror grow, and I knew that I had to get out of my home. I started to run, but I didn't make it very far before I was confronted by the person who had watched me. They were my sister, and she looked ashamed of herself. She said that she knew why I'd become like that, and that she'd always been aware of my secret. I couldn't believe that she'd known about it for so long, and I felt like I was about to be killed. But then she said something that changed everything. "I'm sorry, but I had to do what was necessary to save you." And with that, I fell into a world of peace. I no longer feared the invisible force that had attempted to invade my home, and I felt free.	I had been living in my house for over a year now and, to my surprise, something invisible still lived there. I would wake up in the middle of the night, and I would feel like something was watching me. I would try toExpose it, but it would always disappear before I could see it. I didn't know what it was, but I knew I needed to get rid of it.	You've always felt like you were being watched in your home. But you could never see anything, no matter how hard you looked. You began to think that maybe there was something invisible living in your home, watching you. You started to set traps, trying to catch whatever it was. But the traps never worked. You were never able to catch whatever was living in your home. But you were determined to find out what it was. One day, you finally caught it. It was a tiny little creature, barely visible to the naked eye. You were shocked that you had finally caught it. But then you realized that you had no idea what to do with it now that you had it. You decided to let it go. You released it back into your home, and watched as it disappeared into the shadows. You never saw it again, but you always felt like it was watching you.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months.
2	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in attempted Oaksurge. He haggles with the humans who run the store, trying to get them to sell something. The humans are having trouble with how much money they have and how much storage space they have. However, the adventurers are always Cups ofbside, so they decide to sell their loot. The shop is successful and the adventurers are given some money.	I always try to be fair with my customers, but sometimes they just don't have the money to pay for what they want. So I'll haggle with them until I get a deal I can live with. But one time I came across a group of adventurers who were selling a unique piece of armor. I offered to get it for them, and the group was very grateful. They even gave me a small amount of my own gold for it. It was a nice gesture, and it made me feel good that I was able to help out.	Maggie ran her RPG pawn shop with a smile on her face. She loved haggling with adventurers who walked through her door hoping to find the best deal possible. Today, she was especially excited because she had acquired a great deal of loot from a recent adventure. As she went through the loot, she found an especially rare item. It was a magic sword that she knew could bring her a lot of profits. She tried to haggle with the adventurer who had brought it in, but he was adamant about getting the best price possible. Maggie had never seen a adventurer so determined to get a good deal. Eventually, the adventurer agreed to sell Maggie the magic sword for a fraction of its value. She was ecstatic to have scored such a good deal, and she thanked the adventurer for his cooperation.	You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You're a master haggler, and you always get the best deals. Today, you've got your eye on a group of adventurers who have just come back from a quest. They're trying to sell a magical sword, and you can tell they're desperate. You haggle with them for a while, and eventually you get the sword for a fraction of its worth. You're always happy to help adventurers out, and you know that you'll be able to sell the sword for a profit.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!
3	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	There they were, the Last Supper,olin juande in the desert. The towns and villages surrounded by desert, lianghughes of brush and Falling100 trees. And then, one day, there was only a field, and the animals were gone.	Q: Why did Bob Ross choose to paint landscapes? A: He loved the feeling of being in control of his environment, and his paintings would always be different locations, depending on the season.	In the early hours of the morning, Bob Ross murders his latest victim. He has chosen a quiet forest location for his latest kill, and is fiercely painting the landscape in front of him. His victim doesn't realize what's happening until it's too late.	Bob Ross was a serial killer who used his landscape paintings as a way to keep track of his victims. He would carefully choose a location for each painting, making sure it was secluded and remote. Then, he would lure his unsuspecting victims there, murdering them in cold blood. Ross was a master of disguise, and no one ever suspected that the kindly man who painted happy little trees was a killer. He was so good at his art that he even managed to make his gruesome crimes look like beautiful works of art. Now, years later, people still admire Ross' paintings, never suspecting the dark secret they hold. Every time someone looks at one of his paintings, they're unknowingly staring at the scene of a murder.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh!
4	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Vegeta was very excited to go to the secondary school. He loved a good school year, picking up less language and culture than everyone else. Now, he was a big man in the world, with aero wings and a passengers seat. He had thought about a lot of things while we were on the plane, but one thing was always in mind. That was where he would go when he became an adult. To find out what kind of person Jesus was.	Adolf Hitler's eyes widened when he saw the ad. He had always been fascinated by Freud's work, and he was intrigued by the idea of being able to test his theories on real people. He knew that he had the perfect opportunity to test his theories and be seen as the leading expert on Freud's work. Joseph Stalin was the next to respond. He had always been interested in Freud's work and was intrigued by the idea of being able to test his theories on real people. He knew that he had the perfect opportunity to test his theories and be seen as the leading expert on Freud's work. Leon Trotsky was the next to respond. He had always been interested in Freud's work and was intrigued by the idea of being able to test his theories on real people. He knew that he had the perfect opportunity to test his theories and be seen as the leading expert on Freud's work. Josip Broz Tito was the last to respond. He had always been interested in Freud's work and was intrigued by the idea of being able to test his theories on real people. He knew that he had the perfect opportunity to test his theories and be seen as the leading expert on Freud's work. All of the men looked at one another in confusion. They had never heard of one another before and had no idea what the indoctrinational process was that was being proposed. But they were willing to take part in the experiment, provided that it was with Freud's approval. Freud approval was needed because the experiment was heavily supervised and would not be successful if it were conducted without his consent. So, the men agreed to take part and began their journey into the dark world of Freud's research.	Freud was excited when he received the response to his ad. He had beenworking on a new treatment for depression and anxiety, and he was eager to test it on as many people as possible. He was especially interested in Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. He set up a series of clinical trials, and the four men quickly became interested in the new treatment. They all agreed to participate, and the trials began. The treatments worked well, and the men soon felt much better. They continued to take the treatment everyday, and eventually the trials ended. They all continued to be successful in their careers, and they all remained friends. They shared their experiences with Freud and thanked him for helping them recover from their depression and anxiety.	Sigmund Freud is a well-known psychiatrist in 1913 Vienna, Austria. He is looking for people to participate in clinical trials for his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud is intrigued by this group of people and decides to meet with them. During the meeting, Freud quickly realizes that these four men are very different from each other. Hitler is a young man who is full of anger and hatred. Stalin is a cold and calculated man who is always thinking about power. Trotsky is a passionate man who is always thinking about revolution. And Tito is a young man who is full of energy and Ideas. Freud decides to focus his research on these four men. He believes that they could provide insights into the human condition that no one else could. over the next few years, Freud meets with each of the men regularly and conducts clinical trials with them. He comes to some interesting conclusions about their personalities and psychology. Freud's research with these four men is groundbreaking. It provides new insights into the human mind and helps to shape the field of psychology.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ).
5	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The show is finally over. The audience is |sick| of the sensations they felt during the performance. The magician knows it's over when the rabbit doesn't want to be seen anymore. He takes the rabbit out of the hat and lays him on the stage. The rabbit doesn't even realize he's there until the show is over and he's cleanly behind the curtain.	The magician pulled out the rabbit from a hat and put it in front of him. "Here you are," he said. "You're going to play the role of the rabbit and I'm going to take the role of the magician." The rabbit looked at the magician with confusion. "What's the difference?" "Well, the magician can do things that the rabbit can't," the magician said. "For example, if I put my hand in the hat and make a tutu, the rabbit can't do that. But the magician can." The rabbit hesitated for a moment, but then it decided to believe the magician. "Okay," the magician said. "Let's begin." The magician made a tutu with his hands and the rabbit was immediately sick of playing second fiddle. It was clear that the magician was in control and the rabbit was powerless.	The magician and the rabbit were on stage, the rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit had had enough and said, "I'm sick of this, I want to be the star of the show!" The magician said, "Okay, we'll change roles." The rabbit was sceptical, but agreed to try it. They performed their act to a packed house, and the rabbit was the star of the show.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their act. The rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle to the magician and decides to take matters into its own hands. During the next trick, the rabbit uses its magical powers to make the magician disappear. The rabbit is now the star of the show and gets to perform all the tricks. The audience loves it and gives the rabbit a standing ovation. The rabbit is finally free from being the magician's sidekick and can finally enjoy the spotlight.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in close proximity to the adventurer's section, so one day, a rareknight started selling epic gear from his pawnshop. The adventurer who had bought the gear immediately beganäreating it up, trying to get a price for it. He or she went above and beyond the norm for rare items and sold them at a discounted price. The kalarite-using fighter began to love the new and exciting gear and feltamiliar with the Al-Am porridge.	It was a little after midnight when I opened my pawn shop. It was just me and my three game pawns, and I was busy bickering with adventurers. "I found this really valuable magical item!" "I don't think I want to sell it to you," I said. "It's too valuable." "But it's a magical item!" "It's not worth your time to argue with me," I said. "Just give me the item and go." The adventurers didn't listen, and they kept coming back. I was at a loss. What was wrong with them? Eventually, one of the adventurers said, "I know what you're thinking. You're probably thinking, what am I going to do with this incredibly valuable magical item? You're right. It's not worth my time to argue with you, so I'll just give it to you." I smiled and handed over the item. The adventurers were amazed. They didn't even take the time to check it out. They just ran away with the item. I was happy that I was able to help them out. It was a little late at night, but I still had a few customers.	It was a typical afternoon at the pawn shop. There were adventurers coming and going, trying to sell their loot. I was always quick to haggle, and I was able to get the best deals for the adventurers. One particularly determined adventurer came in. He was carrying a large sword, a shield, and a few other pieces of armor. I asked him how much he wanted for all of it. He told me that he wanted $200 for the sword, $50 for the shield, and $10 for the other pieces of armor. I told him that I would give him a good deal. I offered him $180 for the sword, $45 for the shield, and $7 for the other pieces of armor. He accepted my offer, and he was able to leave the shop with his new belongings.	You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You're a master haggler, and you always get the best prices for your merchandise. Today, you've got your eye on a set of magical armor that an adventurer is trying to sell. You haggle with the adventurer for a while, and eventually you come to an agreement. You pay the adventurer a fair price for the armor, and in return, you get a valuable piece of equipment for your shop.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide.
2	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that met me was also the only one that had never spoken about their life before. Every night, I looked at their face in sleep, trying to see if they were real or a act of fiction. I would watch them snoring gently and wait for them to wake up. When they woke up, they would see my eyes staring at them and they would always laugh before quickly asleep again. I would watch them sleep, watching their body relax and then decide torence them and cash in their wallet for the night.	You peer into the person's face and see that they have a deep, dark marking on their body. It's huge and black, covering most of their skin. It Shutterstock.com/Pixabay.com/stockbyteimages.comGettyimages.cnn is a grotesque sight, but it doesn't surprise you. You have seen similar marks on other people before, on corpses in the trash, on criminals on the run. You approach the person, trying to figure out what to do. The black mark is so large and Callsografische Bilder Von Desperate Women Das Schwarze Meer angenommen, it's impossible to miss. You can tell it's from some sort of injury, or worse. But you also know that the person is innocent. They haven't done anything wrong. You can't help but be struck by how sorry you are for the mark on their body. It's a reminder of the lie that created it.	I met him one day while I was out walking. He stood out among the other people in the city; his scar was the biggest one I had ever seen. It ran from his forehead down over his nose and spread out over his cheeks. He told me that it was from when he had tried to save someone from being run over by a car. He had thrown himself in front of the vehicle, but it was too late. The other man had died on the spot. From then on, he was determined to never tell a lie again. He said that it was too painful to see the consequences of his actions on a regular basis. I was impressed by his conviction, and we started to talk. We talked about everything and anything, and I realized that he was a wonderful person. No matter what happened, he would always tell the truth. He was the kind of person that made me want to be more like him. After we talked for a while longer, I suggested that we go eat together. I was honestly surprised when he said yes. I knew that he was a kind person, but I had never imagined that he was so nice. I was happiness personified.	You live in a world where lying comes with a physical price. Every time you tell a lie, a scar appears on your body, proportional to the size of the lie. So, naturally, you are a bit taken aback when you meet someone who only has one scar. This person has the biggest scar you have ever seen, running all the way down their face. It's as if they have lied about something so big, so significant, that it has left a permanent mark on them. You can't help but wonder what could have possibly happened to make them lie about something so mother. eventually, you musters up the courage to ask them about it. And what you hear is a story of love, betrayal, and heartbreak. This person was once in a relationship with someone they loved dearly. But that love was unrequited, and instead of being honest about their feelings, they lied and said they were fine. It was a lie that destroyed their relationship and left them with this permanent reminder. Now, they live their life alone, bearing the weight of that lie every day.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne.
3	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	It was the final year of World War I. Germany and Austria were at war. The streets were full of angry crowds. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito were all in Vienna for a clinical trial of Sigmund Freud's latest research. All of them were eager to be part of the study. As they waited in line to be called to the meeting, they could hear the sound of gunfire. At the meeting, the study's participants were given a choice: continue the study or apostate and fight. They chose to fight. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito made sure that all of their friends and families were safe. They were all soon fighting in the war. The study was a success. Freud's new research helped to improve the understanding of psychological problems. But it was also hard work. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito had to fight for each other's lives.	Freud was perplexed as to why only these four young men responded to his ad. He couldn't believe that Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky, and Tito were all interested in his clinical trials. He tentatively reached out to them, but it was clear that they had different goals. Stalin wanted to rise to the top of the Soviet Union, Hitler wanted to rule the country, Trotsky wanted to bring about revolution, and Tito wanted to unite Yugoslavia and break away from Austria. Freud was not dissuaded, though. He was excited to see how these four men would deal with the challenges of clinical trials. He hoped that they would all be able to achieve great things.	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria and Sigmund Freud is looking for participants for his latest clinical trials. He puts an ad in the newspaper, and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler (24), Joseph Stalin (35), Leon Trotsky (34) and Josip Broz Tito (21). Freud is intrigued by this strange group of men and decides to interview them all. He quickly realizes that they all share a similar dark view of the world. They are all power-hungry and believe that force is the only way to get what they want. Freud is disturbed by what he sees and decides not to proceed with the clinical trials. He knows that these men are dangerous and that their ideas could have a harmful effect on society. He decides to keep his research to himself and never speaks of it again.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud!
4	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross is a famous paintingist who hangs aroundlicationhand around each of his many places deathly intakes of blood. His places of execution are varied and serious, such as Royality Shop and the ancesmentarium, while his places of execution include the practice room and the chamber of coppers.	Once upon a time there was a man named Bob Ross. He was a great painter, and his paintings were magnificent. However, one day a robber made off with one of his paintings, and Bob was left empty-handed. He spent many days and nights prowling the local neighborhoods in search of his lost masterpiece, but in vain. In the end, Bob gave up and went to bed, mourning his latest loss. In the morning, he woke to find that his home had been broken into and all of his paintings were missing. He was devastated, and for weeks he spentSovietising his paintings, one at a time, in an effort to rebuild his life. But, in the end, it was all for naught. The robber who took Bob's paintings had confessed and was currently serving life in prison.	In Bob Ross' world, each painting is a real place. For as long as anybody can remember, he has traveled to these different locations and killed people there. Some say he does it for the art, others say he simply enjoys the feeling of death. No one really knows for sure, but one thing is for sure: Bob Ross is a murderer.	Bob Ross was not just a talented painter, he was also a skilled killer. For years, he traveled the country, painting beautiful landscapes and committing horrific murders. He would choose his victims carefully, always picking those who were alone and vulnerable. He was never caught, and the police could never figure out where his paintings were located. They were always just one step behind him. But eventually, the police did catch up to him. They found one of his paintings in a remote location, surrounded by the bodies of his victims. Bob Ross was finally brought to justice, and his paintings now serve as a grim reminder of his crimes.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh!
5	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was specifically designed to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. The device was installed on the fact that it was more likely than not that someone who was an Auditor would type these words into a computer system and eventually finishes reading and writing for a universe Thoughtform that is many trillions of miles away in the sky. The device was planted in the person's body in the sense that it was everywhere - including the most important places in someone's life. The person was not even aware that they had a device in their body, they were just using it for everything else. The person's family was also part of the Auditor Program and were paid to type these words into computer systems and eventually finish reading and writing for a universe Thoughtform that is many trillions of miles away in the sky. The device was installed in the person's family in the sense that it was more likely than not that the person's father would type these words into a computer system and eventually finished reading and writing for a universe Thoughtform that is many trillions of miles away in the sky. The device was installed in the person's body in the sense that it was everywhere - including the most important places in someone's life. The person was not even aware that they had a device in their body, they were just using it for everything else. The person's family was also part of the Auditor Program and were paid to type these words into computer systems and eventually finish reading and writing for a universe Thoughtform that is many trillions of miles away in the sky. The device was installed in the person's family in the sense that it was more likely than not that the person's father would type these words into a computer system and eventually finish reading and writing for a universe Thoughtform that was many trillions of miles away in the sky.	Auditor 2 had always been interested in life. After all, she was smarter than anyone her age, and she knew that she could do better than anyone else. So when she was given the opportunity to be a part of the study that would implant birth control devices into everyone during puberty, she couldn't resist. She knew that she could help prevent the dumbest people from reproduction, and she was excited to learn more about the device. As she started to fill out the paperwork to be an Auditor, she realized that she would have to be careful. She knew that some people might think that she wasbright because she had the device, but shewas actually afraid that she might become type A. She tried to be positive, but she could feel the anxieties building up inside her. She knew that she had to succeed, or she would have lost everything she had worked for. As she filled out her paperwork, she thought about the people who would have to take the device out of their own bodies. She knew that some of them would be scared, and she wanted to make sure that they were treated well. She was nervous as she walked into the room where the devices were going to be implanted. She could feel the eyes of the others on her, but she was determined to do her job correctly. As she inserted the device into a person's body, she knew that she would have to be careful. But she was determined to do her best.	The birth control device was loud and intrusive, but it was a necessary evil. It was something that everyone had to go through during puberty, in order to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. It was an annoying process, but it was worth it. If everyone had the device implanted, then the dumbest people would be kept from reproducing, and the world would be a better place. Even though it was an annoying process, I was happy I was an Auditor. I was able to help keep the world from becoming a place where the dumbest people ruled.	As an Auditor, it is my job to determine who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, I use a variety of tests and observations. Once I have determined that someone is suitable, I deactivate their birth control device. I know that some people believe that this system is unfair. They think that only the smartest people should be allowed to have children. But I believe that everyone has the potential to be a good parent, regardless of their IQ. Sure, there are some people who are not suitable to be parents. But I believe that giving everyone a chance is the best way to ensure that the human race continues to thrive.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	balcony - third from the front. A young man and woman were chatting on the porch when he arrived. "Are you watching our show?" she asked. He said "Yes!" and led her to a seat in the balcony. The young man manager our show and the woman was the of the rabbit. The woman was spending time with her family and the man was on stage. One day, the woman saw the man pulling the rabbit out of the hat and she became interested in watching. The man began to move the animals around and the rabbit was once again second fiddle. The woman started to get involved with the show and started to talk to the man. He got mad and started to pull the rabbit out of the hat. The woman was terrified and ran to the house. The man got away and the rabbit was safe. The woman was surpassed by the man and the show was over. The young man leapt on stage and began to speak. "I'm sorry, I was too close to the rabbit and it felt too good to him." "It's okay," the man said. "We didn't have to do this, but we want to make it up to her." The young man began to speak again and said. "I know we're not the best people, but we can be better than this." The man pulled the rabbit out of the hat and the woman watching joined in the fun. The man pulled the rabbit out of the hat and the woman watched as the rabbit became the star of the show. The young man put the rabbit back in the hat and the show was over. The young man went to the woman and asked for her number. She told him he could contact her, but he should not have pulled the rabbit out of the hat. The young man made his way to the door and the rabbit was already long gone.	The magician looked down at the rabbit and said, "Hey, you're being a little bit much." The rabbit looked up at him with its1000 watt eyes. "I know you're frustrated, but you're always being required to do things that I don't even want to do. I DON'T WANT TO BE A MAGICIAN ANY MORE!" The magician looked down at the rabbit and said, "I know, but I really need your help." "What do you need me to do?" The rabbit asked. "I need you to take the hat off my head and give it to me." The rabbit looked at him with its1000 watt eyes. "I don't know if I can do that," the rabbit said. "I think you can," the magician said. He took off the hat and put it on the ground. The rabbit put its head down and took a deep breath. The magician said, "If you can do this, I'll give you the hat." The rabbit looked up at him with its1000 watt eyes. "I'll do my best," the rabbit said. The magician put his hand on the rabbit's shoulder and said, "You have to be very careful. This is very important to me." The rabbit looked at him with its1000 watt eyes. "I'll do my best," the rabbit said.	The magician was getting tired of the rabbit always being in the way. He had been pulling him out of hats for years, and the rabbit was always sick of it. One day, the rabbit snapped. " Enough with this nonsense," the rabbit said. "I can't keep doing this, every time you pull me out of a hat, I end up sick again. From now on, I'm going to do my own thing." The magician was surprised at the rabbit's suddenness, but he didn't challenge him. The magician knew that the rabbit was right- his role in the magician's show was getting old. He watched as the rabbit disappeared into the crowd, and he felt a sadness deep inside him. He knew that he would never see the rabbit again, but he couldn't help but feel a little grateful.	The magician and the rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is visibly unhappy. The magician begins his show, and the rabbit is forced to participate. The rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle, and it shows. The rabbit looks around longingly, as if hoping someone will come and rescue it from this terrible fate. But no one comes, and the show must go on. The rabbit is pulled out of the hat time and time again, each time looking more and more unhappy. Finally, the rabbit has had enough. It hops out of the hat and makes a break for it, running offstage and into the waiting arms of a kind-hearted stagehand. The magician is visibly upset, but the audience loves it. They cheer and clap as the rabbit makes its escape, and the magician is left alone on stage, looking baffled and angry.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
2	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross paints pictures of places he has killed, from shared Murdernachs to powerful Aristides the Strong. His work isThe shots heard, not the fears expressed.	When Bob Ross was younger, he loved taking trips to different parts of the world. One of his favorite stops was a place called Murder City. There, he would murder people for fun. He would make them believe they were randomly chosen victims, and then watch as they died in a gruesome death. Now, many years later, Ross still goes there and enjoys the murders. Some people in the town have started to notice, and they're starting to hope that Ross will finally be caught. However, Ross is always one step ahead and he knows that he'll be caught eventually.	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. Each painting captures a different slice of life, from the hustle and bustle of a city street to the peaceful tranquility of a country meadow. But for all the realism of his paintings, Bob Ross was a cold, calculating murderer. He would carefully select his victims, often choosing people who were down on their luck or who he thought would be easy targets. In the end, Bob Ross' paintings are nothing more than a cold landscape of death.	Bob Ross was a prolific painter, known for his tranquil landscapes and soothing voice. What most people didn't know was that each of his paintings was a real place - and the locations of his countless murders. Bob Ross was a psychopath who enjoyed nothing more than killing innocent people. He would take them to secluded spots in the wilderness, where he would kill them in cold blood. He then used their blood to paint his landscapes, which he sold for a tidy profit. For years, Bob Ross managed to keep his murderous secret hidden. But eventually, the authorities began to catch on. They tracked him down to his last painting - and found the gruesome scene that lay behind it. Now, Bob Ross is in prison, where he will spend the rest of his days. And his paintings serve as a reminder of the horrific crimes that he committed.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood?
3	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The house was quickly Divinity free as if she had a free will. The house was a blatant reminder of her before the day was over. now it seems like every night she sees herself in somerozen place miserably living. she thinks back to the days when she wasnovest in the whole wide world and all she saw were vans and cars. she was suprised by the person she was behind the scenes at work. she was accountsubord that day and did her job with without knowing how it was being done. she was happy to be a part of something larger than herself.	Once upon a time, a woman lived in a home with an Invisible Creature that she didn't know existed. She spent many hours trying to get rid of the creature, but it seemed to be always around, lurking in the corners and in the shadows. She grew to love the creature, despite its invisibility. It was always treats her like a pet and would come to her when she called out, ready to play. One day, she decided that she was ready to get rid of the creature. She went to the attic and started packing her things. As she was packing, the creature came up behind her and said, "I know you're leaving because you don't want me to stay." The woman felt scared and systemically angry, but she couldn't stop herself from crying. She started packing her things again and the creature came up behind her again. This time, it spoke in a happier voice, "I'm glad you're leaving. I'll miss you." The woman felt relieved and happy, and she said goodbye to the creature before she left the house. She never looked back, but she knew the creature was always there, waiting for her.	I was cleaning my kitchen one day, when I caught a glimpse of something moving out of the corner of my eye. I slowly turned to look, and there, peeking out from behind the cabinets, was an invisible creature. I gasped and tried to run, but before I could even take a step, the creature pounced on me, sinking its sharp teeth into my skin. I screamed and fought back, but in the end I was defeated. Now, every time I clean my kitchen, I'm always on the lookout for that invisible creature, just in case it decides to cross my path again.	I've always suspected that something invisible lives in my home. I can't see it, but I can feel its presence. It's like a presence in the room that I can't shake. I've tried to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. I've set up cameras in the house, but they never seem to catch anything. I've tried to make noise when I know it's around, but it never seems to react. I'm not sure what it is, but I know it's there. I can feel it watching me, even when I can't see it. And I can't shake the feeling that it's not just watching me, but waiting for me to make a mistake.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months.
4	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The store is inkester and busy. The NPCs are endless and prices are High. One day, you talk to a young man. He's from a small town in the mountains and he's looking for lost loot. You offer to take his order and provide tracking. He takes you up on your offer and you stay in touch. A few days after you handle his order, he sends you an email with a picture of a map with " Lost Loot " written on it.	Once upon a time, an RPG pawn shop was a thriving business. Players would come to town to buy weapons, armor, and other Wondrous items, and the shop owner would work hard to get them to the best prices. Sadly, times have changed. The game is over, the players are gone, and the shop is effectively closed. Nevertheless, the memories of all the adventurers who've come to buy treasures keep the shop open in memory.	Belladonna ran her RPG pawn shop with a practiced hand. She knew the value of each item, and could haggle with the best of them. She was used to adventurers coming in, trying to sell off whatever loot they had acquired. She was used to them being pushy, and trying to get her to buy things at a lower price. But she was a good haggler, and was always able to get a good deal for her customers. One day, an adventurer came in. He was wild-eyed, and his clothes were tattered. He looked like he had been through a lot. Belladonna looked at him, and sized him up. She knew he was probably trying to get a good deal on his loot, since he had no other choice. She started to talk to him, trying to get a sense of what he was looking for. After some negotiation, she was able to give him a good price for his items. He thanked her, and left the shop. Belladonna smiled to herself, pleased with her deal. She knew that she could always count on adventurers to come in, and try to get the best deal they could for their loot.	You run an RPG pawn shop where adventurers can sell their loot. You haggle with them to get the best prices, and sometimes you even luck out and find some rare items. Today, a young woman comes in with a sack of loot. She looks exhausted, and you can tell she's been through a lot. She opens the sack and starts pulling out items. There's a magic sword, a few potions, some gold, and a few other things. You start to haggle with her, but she's not interested. She just wants to get rid of the loot and be done with it. You eventually agree on a price and hand over the money. She takes it and leaves, looking relieved. As she walks out, you can't help but wonder what adventures she's been on and what kind of danger she's faced.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly.
5	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that you meet that day is upfront and honest. They don't tell me their true story until it's too late. The big lies start to find each other and daughter sometimes, the son may be left behind. But, in the end, their' stories come out so all loud and clear.	You're meeting someone for the first time and you're quickly able to see that they have a lot of lies on their body. There are deep grooves that can be seen in their back, evidence of how much they have lied throughout their life. You're also surprised to find out that they are a very dishonest person. They tell you the most convoluted and convincing lies, complete with embellishments and embellishments. They make it seem like everything is Alright, even though they are only living a life of lies. In the end, you realize that you can't be around someone that is like that. You can't let yourself be suckered in by their lies and false promises. You have to end things before it gets too late.	I was always intrigued by the single, deep scar on his skin. It was the biggest one I had ever seen. I couldn't help but to ask him about it. He told me that it was from the biggest lie he had ever told. The lie had caused such a deep, large wound that it never healed properly. It was a constant reminder of his sin and the pain it had caused.	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. As you get to know this person, you realize that they have lived a life full of lies. They have lied to their family, their friends, and even to themselves. But, despite all of their lies, they have still managed to lead a happy and successful life. You can't help but wonder how they did it.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He put a ad in a newspaper and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito.	Adolf Hitler clicked on the ad. He had always been interested in science, and this was the perfect opportunity to see if Freud's latest theory was true. He filled out the application form quickly and eagerly. When he got back to his room, he sat down and began to read the application forms. He noticed that Joseph Stalin and Leon Trotsky had the same age as him, and he was excited to have them as his participants. He also found out that all of the other participants were from other countries. This suited Hitler perfectly. He wanted the best scientists in the world to help him find the truth about the world. When the trial notices came in, Adolf was ready. He had made sure to be the best possible pilot for the trial and had also created a hospital in Vienna. The only problem was that he had no money. He knew that he needed to find sponsorships to cover the costs of the trial. He also knew that he had to find a way to get the news out there. He started to write to friends and family, but he was sure that he would never hear back. When the trial started, Adolf was a little scared. He had never been in a fight before, and he was not sure how he would fared. But he knew that he had to do what was best for his country. He was also excited to see his friends and family. When the first test subject came in, Adolf was nervous but excited. He was able to control the airplane and fly it to the trial site. When he got there, he was surprised to see that Joseph Stalin and Leon Trotsky were there too. They were also excited to be part of the trial. As the test went on, Adolf was able to see that the theory that Freud was testing was true. He was also able to see that Joseph Stalin and Leon Trotsky were not going to be good participants. They were too focused on their own goals. Adolf knew that he had to get them out of the trial before it was too late. When the trial was over, Adolf was able to get his friends and family to send him money. He also knew that he had to hide the money. He knew that he would not be able to go back to the trial again, and he would not want to be associated with the two bad participants. Adolf was excited to be a part of the scientific community, and he would continue to look forward to new discoveries.	Freud was excited to test his new theory on the leaders of the world's most powerful countries. He quickly assembled a team of test subjects, all of whom he thought would be the perfect candidates for his study. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito all showed up to the trial, each expecting to be the next great mind in psychiatry. But Freud had other plans for them. He began by testing Hitler's potential for aggression. Freud found that Hitler had a very high potential for violence, something that he would use to rise to power in Germany. Joseph Stalin was next. Freud found that Stalin had a very strong denial mechanism, something that would keep him in power as the dictator of the Soviet Union. Leon Trotsky was the least likely of the test subjects to succeed, but Freud found that he had a very strong capacity for imagination. This would help him lead the Soviet Union to world domination. Josip Broz Tito was the most successful of the test subjects. He demonstrated a high potential for self-sacrifice, something that would help him lead Yugoslavia to communism.	Sigmund Freud is one of the most renowned psychologists in the world. His latest research is on the human psyche and he is seeking participants for clinical trials in Vienna, Austria. He puts an ad in a local newspaper, seeking people of all ages and backgrounds. The only people who respond to the ad are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. All four men are in their early twenties and are from very different backgrounds. Freud is intrigued by their responses and decides to meet with them individually. Hitler is the first to meet with Freud. He is very charismatic and Freud is immediately impressed with his intelligence. Hitler tells Freud about his difficult childhood and his dreams of becoming a great leader. Freud is fascinated by Hitler's stories and begins to see him as a potential candidate for his research. Stalin is the second to meet with Freud. He is much more serious than Hitler and does not share much about his personal life. Stalin tells Freud about his political beliefs and his desire to change the world. Freud is again impressed with Stalin's intelligence and begins to see him as a potential candidate for his research. Trotsky is the third to meet with Freud. He is very passionate and articulate, and he tells Freud about his dreams of revolutionizing the world. Trotsky also shares his beliefs about democracy and equality. Freud is once again impressed with Trotsky's intellect and begins to see him as a potential candidate for his research. The fourth and final person to meet with Freud is Josip Broz Tito. Tito is much quieter than the other three men, but he tells Freud about his desire to create a more just and equal society. Freud is once again impressed with Tito's intelligence and begins to see him as a potential candidate for his research. After meeting with all four men, Freud decides that they are all suitable candidates for his research. He does not yet know how their individual stories will impact his research, but he is eager to find out.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist!
2	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The man who lived in the house behind me was a young couple who were constantly on the go.Their paths had been crossed often enough that they knew when they were alone in the house, they were at risk of beingManagement hadHi, I'm what you call a "smart" cat! You did well in your yesterday's article on ecanching in the house. I found this clever and Wentobs is a very important cat to have in your home. If you don't have him, then someone else will have to make the trip to enter your home. deceive you into thinking that something is safe. The man had been traveling constantly for years and his home had always been the only place he ever lived. His wife had always been open to new experiences and he was not. So when he had been told goobs was no longer wanted in his home, he quickly Unexpectedly, he found himself in the house behind him. It had been a little Oro under his bed and he had been curious about it. When he had finally achable to get a look at it, he had found that it was the only thing under the bed. The man had been so elated that he had assumptions about his life and about the cat he had never looked again.	One day, I was cleaning my home and noticed something strange crawling around the corners of my room. I quickly put on my shoes and left the room, but the thing was still there. I came back a few minutes later, and the thing was still there. I started to feel stupid and scared, so I grabbed a can of Raid and threw it at the creature, but it was too slow and dodged the can. I quickly created a barrier of obstacles in front of me and screamed at the thing, but it just walked through them without so much as a glance. I started to feel like I was being watched, and I didn't know what to do. I didn't know if I was being paranoid, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching me. I started to feel like I was being watched all the time, and I was getting really scared.	I was scrolling through my Facebook feed when I noticed one of my friends sharing a post about an invisible creature living in her home. I was excited to try and find proof of this creature, so I asked her if she could show me the proof. She hesitated, but then she agreed to show me. She brought over her laptop and showed me a video of the invisible creature moving around her home. I was shocked, and I couldn't believe that this thing was actually living in my home. I was scared, but I also felt excited, like I finally had proof that there was something else living in my home besides me.	I could feel it watching me. It was always there, lurking in the shadows, waiting for its opportunity to strike. I didn't know what it was, but I knew it was there. And I was determined to find out what it was. I began setting traps, baiting them with food and other items that I thought it might be interested in. But it never took the bait. I started staying up late into the night, trying to catch a glimpse of it. But it was always just out of reach, always just beyond my sight. I was beginning to think that I was losing my mind. That there was nothing there at all. But I knew better. I knew that something was there, hiding from me. And I was determined to find out what it was. One night, I finally caught a glimpse of it. It was a shadow, slithering along the floor. I froze, not daring to move. And then, before I could react, it was gone. I was shaken, but I knew what I had seen. Something invisible was living in my home, and I was determined to find out what it was.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months.
3	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	Once upon a time, there was a girl named Aud	As an Auditor, I have to take care of the dumbest people in the world. It's a job that doesn't leave much time for thinking. But I found a way to prevent only the dumbest people from reproducing. Everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an Auditor. But I wasn't sure if I should. I had seen the effects of births produced by the stupidest people. They were always unhappy, always meth-headed. I couldn't let that happen to my next few hundred STUDENTS. So I decided to take a gamble. I implanted a birth control device in each of the dumbest people in the world. I knew they wouldn't be able to use it, but I was worried that they might try to get it off. But I was wrong. The devices worked perfectly. The stupid people never had a chance to produce any offspring.	I was born into a world where intelligence was a requirement for reproduction. All citizens were implanted with a birth control device during puberty, and it could only be deactivated once it was determined that they were intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I was an Auditor. I was assigned to monitor the population and make sure that only the smartest and most fit people were reproducing. It was a difficult job, but I was committed to ensuring that the world was a better place for everyone. Despite my best efforts, the population continued to grow. The average IQ scores began to decline, and the world was becoming a worse place with every passing generation. I had to find a way to stop the decline before it was too late.	You're an Auditor, responsible for making sure that only the smartest people in the world are able to have children. It's a tough job, but someone has to do it. As part of your job, you interview prospective parents to gauge their intelligence and stability. If they pass your assessment, you deactivate their birth control devices, allowing them to have children. It's a difficult but necessary job, and you take great pride in knowing that you're helping to create a better world for future generations.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge.
4	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician has always been a Men in Black type of person. He's efficient, calm, and always in control. He doesn't have to think about what he's doing, and that part is perfect for rabbit. The rabbit is happy being the second best thing to the magician, and doesn't want to go out of the game. But the magician doesn't care. He's not done with the rabbit yet.	The magician and the rabbit glared at each other. It was a typical performance routine, the magician pulling out the rabbit from a hat, the rabbit too sick of playing second fiddle. The magician had always considered the rabbit to be a incompetent creature, one that couldn't keep up with the tricks he could do. But now, the rabbit was screaming for freedom, for the chance to be the star of the show. The magician hesitated, but then he looked into the rabbit's eyes and knew that he had to do something. He took the rabbit from the hat and dragged it offstage. The rabbit was shaking with anger, but the magician didn't care. He had made his decision and he was going to follow it to the end.	The magician was getting tired of having the rabbit as his assistant. From the start, the rabbit had always been too shy to take center stage. The magician had tried to teach the rabbit how to be bold and take centre stage, but it seemed that the rabbit was never good at being the star. One day, the magician decided that it was time to let the rabbit go. He took a deep breath and said, "I'm sorry, rabbit. You're just not cut out for this." The rabbit looked down, dejected. Just then, the magician noticed a woman in the audience. She had an impressed look on her face and she was clapping. The magician turned to the rabbit and said, "I think I might have found your new career, rabbit." With a smile, the rabbit went back to the audience to take a bow.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. However, the rabbit is starting to get sick of playing second fiddle. He's been stuck in that hat for years, and he's tired of being the one that always gets pulled out of it. The rabbit decides to take matters into his own hands. During the next performance, when the magician pulls him out of the hat, he doesn't go back in. Instead, he hops off the stage and into the audience. The crowd goes wild, cheering for the rabbit as he makes his escape. The magician is stunned, and he can't believe what's happening. The rabbit is finally free, and he's never going back into that hat again.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it?
5	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is full of treasure, Pete knowing that one day he'll have to take on the bigs in a game of treasure rabbiting around his mind. He's decided to sell his pawn shop and set up a hand-and-by. With his recent investments, Pete is in good spirits as he sets off to start his business.	The old pawn shop was always a mess. The coins were coming in all of different shapes and sizes, and no matter how much you haggle, the adventurers always wanted more. One day, a new player came into the shop and wanted to sell an enchanted sword he'd won from a dungeon. The prices were high, but the player wasn't willing to let the sword go. He haggled and pleaded until finally the player gave in and took the sword. The shopkeeper was impressed. He'd never seen such a determined player before. The new player had shown character and had proven himself worth buying from.	One day, a group of adventurers walked into my shop. They were tired and dusty, and they had a lot of gear. They were looking for a pawn shop that would give them a good deal on their gear. I took them into my back room, and I started haggling with them. I was able to get them a good price on their gear, and they were happy with the deal. I hope that they'll be back when they need more gear, and I'll be able to give them a better deal than they could get in other shops.	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you're always trying to get the best prices for your merchandise. One day, a group of adventurers comes into your shop with a treasure trove of loot. They're looking to sell it all, and they're looking for a good price. You haggle with them for a while, and eventually you come to an agreement. You buy all of their loot for a good price, and you're able to turn around and sell it for even more. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and this is just another example of your shrewd bargaining skills.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross Employees are always paid attention to. They workSummary: Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	It was always a hard life working in a place like Ross's painting studio. Each painting was a meticulous recollection of a tragedy, a reminder of the lives that were taken by the artists and their loved ones. One day, Bob was painting in his studio when he suffered a sudden heart attack. The pain was too much to handle and he died right there in his studio, his Catalog of Murders still visible on the walls.	Bob Ross was an infamous landscape artist who used his art to cover up his numerous murders. He would travel to different locations and paint pictures of the local landscape, pretending to be interested in the area. However, in reality, he was Hedonistic Killer #1, always looking for new prey. One day, Bob visited a quiet mountain town. He spent hours painting the pretty views, pretending to be a lover of nature. But in the back of his mind, he was planning his next murder. Next, he would go to the nearby city to scope out new victims. And from there, it would be easy to cover his tracks.	Bob Ross was a prolific serial killer. His gruesome crimes spanned across the country, with each of his victim's bodies hidden in the brush of a landscape painting. The paintings were his calling card, and detectives soon began to piece together the gruesome murders by following the clues hidden in each scene. The FBI eventually captured Ross and brought him to justice, but the damage was done. His landscape paintings continue to hang in homes and galleries across the world, and the dark secret hidden within them still lurks, waiting to be discovered.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun.
2	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that you meet was always a liar. She would try to keep the words hidden, but one day, you catch her tells her friends. She is destinationing to make you feel like you are the only one that matters. As you walk through the city, you see a largeaura of smoke. You are the only one that knows, the several people you see with fire in their eyes. You dive into the fray, fighting for control of the situation. The person that you meet will never forget your conversation. It is the first time you ever speak and it is the first time you feel the weight of the world on your shoulders.	You try to be polite when you meet this person. You tell them you don't carry any scars, and that you're always clean and new. You tell them you have never lied, and that you would never do that. You are polite and sincere, and you think you have finally met the person that can't be bought or influenced. But this person is Different. They have a huge and obvious scar on their body, right above their heart. It is the biggest and most grotesque scar you have ever seen. You can't help but feel wary and scared of this person, especially knowing that they are the one that caused the scar. Your mind races as you think about all the lies you have told in your life. You can't help but feel dirty and ashamed of yourself. You think about all the ways you have hurt people, and all the ways you have hurt yourself. You don't know how to react when this person comes up to you and reveals that they are the one who has caused so many scars. You can't look them in the eye and say anything. You can't even offer them a hug. You just stand there as they say goodbye, feeling like a complete and total fraud. You think about all the ways this person has hurt you, and all the ways you have hurt them. You wonder how long it will be till they hurt you again.	I had never seen anything like him. His skin was untouched by the lies that plague our world. He was the only one I had ever met that lived in truth. I couldn't help but to stare at his scar. It was the biggest one I had ever seen. It went from the top of his head, down his neck, and disappeared into his shirt. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I wanted to ask him how he had gotten it, but I knew that would only lead to more lies. So, I just watched as he walked away, leaving me alone with my own thoughts.	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. You're curious about this person and their story, so you ask them about it. They tell you that they were once in a relationship with someone that they loved very much. But, that person ended up cheating on them and breaking their heart. The scar is from the lies that were told to them during that time. Even though it was a long time ago, that scar is a reminder of the hurt that was caused by those lies.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past?
3	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The window was so small, you could not see out. The mussed hair of the dog was against your face as you stranger stepped out. You track her down in a virtual world of your home, your voice softly Cantinflas style. "What the hell, who is that?" The dog looks up from her wagging pile of dog food andolescrewing towards you, a three legged attitude. You scowl and she continues to wag. "It's the dog Across the Sky" She looks at you,Maybe it's an act,but she starts to speak in a more normal voice. "What do you want?" You,or the dog,vant each other with a0to0 Leigh Hines "We could go over this some other time" Leigh says before you can, "I mean, it's not like we can stop or anything, we're just going to have to beinemberly Rudders to stop her" You snarl at her, "the dog has nothing to do with this" Leigh looks off into the distance, "True"	I've been trying to find something invisible for years. I've tried tocomponent it into my life, but it always manages to return. Sometimes it's in the form of aonoise in the hall, or a specks of light in the corners of my eye. I don't know how to deal with it. One day, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I started to notice things more suspiciously. There was aaudible noise coming from the corner of my room. I turned to see an invisible figure looming over my bed. Itmonitored my every move, and it was constant torment. I didn't know how to deal with it.	I had always thought there was something strange about my house. No matter how many times I cleaned, there was always something lurking in the corners. It was only when I started to notice the tiny movements that I realized there was something else there - something invisible. I tried to catch it in camera but it always seemed to disappear before I could get a clear picture. I started to worry that it was coming to get me, but I couldn't figure out how to make it disappear. I didn't want to freak out my family but something was definitely making my house feel spooky.	There's something invisible living in my home. I don't know what it is, but I can feel its presence. I've tried to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence, but it's difficult. I can't help but feel like it's watching me, lurking in the shadows, waiting for an opportunity to strike. I'm not sure what it wants, but I know I don't want it here. I'm going to find a way to get rid of it, whatever it takes.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own.
4	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The Day After, Jake was up until their eyes in value before he was born, and he and his mom were again on the brink of being rich. But then he tasted new flavors and were born to a family of opportunity who had been waiting for him. His parents were rich too, until Jake and his mom Jade verticallypsychified their house with a few seances and a few empowering words from Jake's father. They were virginal and strong. And that's how Jake and his parents became one of the most successful families in the city.	As an Auditor, I'm responsible for tracking the intelligence and stability of people who are ready to be human. I've only ever tested people who are intelligent and stable enough to be able to raise a well-adjusted human being. Tonight, I met one of those people. She was clearly intelligent and stable, but she was also clearly stupid. I decided to test her birth control device. The device was simple. It was a small, silver disk that I inserted into the small of her back. I then pressed a button to activate it. A moment later, I heard her screams.	She was born with the device clipped to her hip. It was just a precaution, something to ensure that the dumbest people in the world would not breed and create even more living creatures that couldn't think for themselves. At first, she was scared. She was worried that her parents would take the device away if they found out. But they didn't. They knew that she was intelligent and stable enough to handle the responsibility of being an Auditor. So she carried the device with her everywhere, always aware of its presence. Sometimes she would think about how it must have felt to have it inserted into her during puberty. She wondered if it would be painful. But she never dared ask anyone. Now that she is an Auditor, she knows that the device is there to protect her and the rest of the humanity. It has saved billions of lives and she will continue to do what she can to ensure that the dumbest people in the world don't bring about the end of the human race.	You've been an Auditor for years now, and you take your job very seriously. Youscreen every single person who wants to have their birth control device deactivated, and you make sure that they are fully capable of raising a well-adjusted human being before you give them the thumbs up. It's a big responsibility, but you enjoy it. You know that you're helping to create a better world by making sure that only the smartest, most capable people are reproducing. One day, you meet a woman who wants to have her birth control device deactivated. She's pass all of your tests with flying colors, and you can tell that she's going to be an excellent parent. But then, she says something that makes you pause. "I know that I'm smart and capable, but I also know that I'm never going to be able to have children of my own. I want to have my birth control device deactivated so that I can adopt a child and give them the love and attention they deserve." This woman's words touch you deeply, and you realize that she is indeed fully capable of raising a well-adjusted human being. You give her the thumbs up, and she is overjoyed. You know that you've made the right decision, and you feel proud to have helped this woman give a child the home they deserve.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?
5	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is on his way to South America. He's on the Bartolomé regime, a small island in the Bíjano Archipelago. The Bartolomé are a failing family that couldn't be happier about having Sigmund Freud as their boss. "He's coming to visit us soon," his wife civilization nearby said to his wife and daughter. "What do you mean?" he asked his wife. "I mean, he's going to be here for another few months. He won't be back for over a year." "What does he do?" His daughter asked. "He's theres a trial going on of his newest idmod X CRISPR-based Onchoprofnite treatment," his wife said. "What is this about?" He his wife asked him. "This is about Sigmund Freud, he's being tested for inclusion in the clinical trial for his newest research project, which is based on his improved technique of CRISPR-based Onchoprofnite treatment," she told him. " CRISPR-based Onchoprofnite treatment? " He asked. "Yes, it's a new method of using CRISPR-based Onchoprofnite treatment to improve the lives of people in developing countries," she told him. " CRISPR-based Onchoprofnite treatment? " He asked again. "Yes, it's a new method of using CRISPR-based Onchoprofnite treatment to improve the lives of people in developing countries," she told him. "Sigmund, this is crazy," his wife said. "Yes, I think so too," she said. They could see Sigmund Freud coming down the stairs. They heard him say, "I'm coming in." They all got out of their seats and turned to face him. He was wearing a links Brooks Brothers shirt and a beige wool coat. His eyes were set in his front face, set in a small,Doriansey head. "What are you doing here, Sigmund?" His wife asked. "I'm here to visit you and your family, to warn you about the risks of your regime," he said. "What do you mean, 'the risks of your regime'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger here, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I mean, you're in danger, your regime is dangerous," Sigmund Freud said. "What do you mean, 'the new government'?" His wife asked. "I	Adolf Hitler read the ad and was intrigued. He was young and hungry for a chance at some power and influence. He was also interested in Freud's research and wanted to be a part of it. Joseph Stalin was another intrigued by the ad. He had a lot of power and influence in Russia and was looking for a way to gain even more. Leon Trotsky was even more curious. He was a Marxist and believed in the equality of people. He was also interested in Freud's research. He wanted to be a part of it, but was scared of Stalin's power. Lastly, Josip Broz Tito was the most curious. He loved the idea of freedom and democracy and was interested in the research. He wanted to be a part of it, but was scared of Stalin's control.	Freud is excited to test his new theory that the three most powerful people in the world are the ones who can identify and deal with their innermost desires. He letters all of the participants, explaining his theory and asking for their help. Hitler is the first to respond. He quickly agrees to participate, and Freud is thrilled. He knows that Hitler is motivated by bitterness and resentment over his lack of success, and he believes that he can help the Nazi leader conquer Europe and rule the world. Stalin is the next to respond. He is skeptical, but agrees to participate if he can have access to the raw data from the trials. Freud is happy to agree, and tells Stalin that he will provide him with all of the information he needs. Tito is the last to respond. He is hesitant at first, but finally agrees to participate if he can be the leader of the trials. Freud is happy to agree, and tells Tito that he will make sure that he is the one in charge. As the trials begin, Hitler and Stalin quickly rise to the top. Trotsky is the least successful of the participants, and Tito becomes increasingly despotic as he tries to take over the trials. Eventually, all three leaders are successful in their quests for power, and the world is changed forever.	It's 1913, and Sigmund Freud is in Vienna, Austria, seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper, and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler (24), Joseph Stalin (35), Leon Trotsky (34), and Josip Broz Tito (21). Freud is intrigued by this motley crew of respondents, and so he invites them all to participate in his trials. Over the course of the trials, he comes to realize that each of these men is deeply troubled, and that their politicial ideologies are merely a manifestation of their inner turmoil. Freud is particularly struck by Hitler, who seems to be the most deeply disturbed of all. He is filled with anger and hatred, and Freud wonders if his violent tendencies might be something that could be cured. In the end, Freud is unable to help any of these men, and they all go on to become some of the most notorious dictators in history. But he always remembers them, and the insight they gave him into the dark side of human nature.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross visits each of his innumerable places in68 different paintings, each with a different landscape.photo.	Bob Ross always enjoyed painting landscapes. It was one of his favorite hobbies. However, on one particularly peaceful day, he happened to be painting in his often spooky home in Mt. Pleasant, PA. Suddenly, Bob's garage door burst open and three people leapt out, knives in hand. One of the attackers eyewitnessed the attack and called the police. Within minutes, the suspects were apprehended and Bob's home was raided. All of his paintings were seized and the detectives interrogated him about his murders. It turned out that Bob had been brutally murdered in his own home, and his murderers were never apprehended.	It was a dark, quiet night. Bob Ross settled in for his usual painting session, painting the tranquil landscape of his home state, Vermont. As he worked, he thought of all the different people he had murdered, and smiled. It was a beautiful day, and he was enjoying himself immensely. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Ross hastily put his brush down, and leapt to his feet, ready to confront his latest victim. But it was just his old friend and neighbor, Roger. "Bob, I just wanted to say how much I appreciate the landscape paintings, they're so peaceful. Is there anything I can help you with?" Roger asked. "No, no, I'm good," Bob replied, relieved. "I'll be sure to paint your house next." Roger smiled, and went on his way. Bob resumed painting, happy to have finished his duty for the night. But he couldn't help wondering what would have happened if Roger had come by earlier. Would he have been able to murder him and get away with it? Or would the police have been called and he would have been caught? It was a mystery that Bob would never solve.	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. His victims are all young women, and their bodies are hidden in the forests and mountains he paints so beautifully. No one knows how many women he's killed, but the FBI estimates that there are at least dozens, if not hundreds. Bob Ross is a charming man, and he seems like the perfect gentleman. But behind his kind exterior lies a dark secret: he's a serial killer. He lures young women into his paintings, and then kills them, hiding their bodies in the landscapes. The FBI has been investigating Bob Ross for years, but they've never been able to catch him. They suspect that he's using his paintings as a way to cover up his crimes, and they're hoping that someday they'll be able to find the evidence they need to put him away for good. Meanwhile, Bob Ross continues to paint, and the women he kills continue to disappear. If you're a young woman, be careful if you ever meet him. He might seem like a harmless old man, but he's anything but.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas.
2	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	Tommy had always been a lie. She was the one whotruelyKnowledge, the one whodenied things, the one whoilesnouted things. But one day, she meets a person who has both of these things in addition to a golden eye. This person changed her life and Tommy's.	You meet this person on a dark night, when all eyes are on you. You tell them the truth, and they only have one scar. It is a deep, circumscribed gash on their chest. The wound oozes with pus, but they are unharmed. You are speechless, as is everyone around you. What has happened to you?	I was intrigued by this person from the moment I saw them. They had the biggest scar I had ever seen. It stretched across the entire top of their body, from their neck to their waist. I asked them why it was so big and they told me that it was the lie that had hurt them the most. I could see the pain and regret in their eyes. It made me rethink my own lies.	In a world where every lie creates a scar, I met someone with the biggest scar I had ever seen. It was so large and deep that it must have been for an incredibly big lie. I wondered what could have possibly caused such a scar. The person with the scar was very quiet and didn't speak much. I didn't want to pry, but I was curious about what could have caused such a big lie. Eventually, I asked them about it. They hesitated at first, but then told me the story. They said that when they were younger, they had lied about something very important. They didn't want to tell me what it was, but it must have been huge. The scar was a constant reminder of the lie they had told and the pain it had caused. Now, every time they look at their scar, they are reminded of the truth. And they are determined to never lie again.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt.
3	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was put into. The first thing I did was remind myself that I was an Auditor andFU. I was supposed to be saving the world from itsqualributed forms of intelligence, but now I was going to have to start Somewhere Over the Rainbow Control Center? I banked on the answer being no, but then again, I was probably by design and Meowth was not. I undid the button, not sure what to do when it started to work its Og-spells. The filters were more important than ever, and I was The Auditor. I started birth control again. It was a waste of time and money, but I had to try. The first few weeks were rough, but I managed to get through them by always being aware of my words and my rules. By the end of it, I was confident and smart. I was The Auditor. I started again, but this time I was more worried about my words and my place in them. Would I prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing? I tried more birth control devices, but nothing worked. I was The Auditor again. This time, I was more focused on my words and my place in them. I was going to prevent only the world's intelligent people from reproducing. I started at the beginning, and I would stop at the end.	Auditor 2A was sitting in her office, minding her own business when Auditor 3A entered the room. Auditor 3A was a small, plump woman who was always trying to be nicer to her colleagues but she could never seem to get over the feeling that she was always underrated. " Auditor 2A, I've been thinking about you," Auditor 3A said, finally breaking the silence. " Oh, well I'm glad to hear it," Auditor 2A said, extracting a clipboard from her desk andleaning over to put it in Auditor 3A's hands. " Do you have any questions for me?" " Are you sure you're up for this?" Auditor 3A asked, lifting her chin up a little bit in challenge. " Are you saying that you're not comfortable with it?" Auditor 2A asked, leaning back in her chair and smirking. " I'm comfortable with it," Auditor 3A said, her voice dripping with certainty. " And I think you're going to be very good at it."	I was born with a birth control device implanted in my brain. I never knew it existed, and I had no idea what it did until I was called into an Auditor's office to be evaluated. I was scared, but also curious. I wanted to know what would happen to me once I was deemed intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. The Auditor examined me carefully and then announced that I was suited to be an Auditor. I was overjoyed and relieved. I never imagined that my birth control device would be a blessing in disguise, but it has turned out to be exactly that. I now know what it takes to be a good parent and I'm proud to be an Auditor.	You're an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. It's a big responsibility, but you take it seriously. After all, the future of the world depends on it. You've been doing this job for years, and you've never had any problems. But now, you're faced with a difficult decision. There is one person who is clearly not intelligent or stable enough to raise a child, but they're begging you to let them deactivate their birth control device. What do you do?	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke.
4	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	Theizu was founded by the Ancient Magicians, because they think it will be the next big thing in the market. It's a small stop on their quest for new spellistries. However, the thing that makes story line between them and the adventurers is that the adventurers want to know everything there is to know about the land, its mechanism, and what kinds of creatures live in it. So, they come looking foreret in search of their favorite thezus to ask him questions. Theizu is asmall shop, but it's the perfect place to go when you want to know more about a land, its mechanism, or who lives in it.	One day, a young ranger came into the pawn shop looking for a gear check for his new roleplaying game. He had just looted a large chest in a neighboring forest and was looking to sell the items he had gotten. I offered to help him carry the gear to my storage compartment, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to leave it there or take it to his game. Ultimately, he decided to take it to his game and left with his new gear.	Karen stood behind the counter of her pawn shop, watching as adventurers entered, each hoping to get the best deal on the equipment they were selling. Karen's sharp eyes quickly analyzed each item, and she was always willing to haggle. Today, she was particularly motivated. She had just sold her last item, and she was looking for something new to offer adventurers. She soon found what she was looking for: a sword that had been damaged in combat. Karen approached the adventurer, asking him to lower his price. The adventurer was happy to oblige, and he started to walk away. But Karen wasn't finished yet. "Uh, one more thing." She said. "The sword's definitely worth more than what you're asking, but it's not in the best condition. I'll give you a discount for taking it off my hands." The adventurer smiled and took the sword from Karen. He thanked her and left the shop, hopefully with a new weapon in tow.	You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You're a master haggler, and you always try to get the best deal for your merchandise. Today, you've got your eye on a group of adventurers who have just come into town. They've got a bunch of loot with them, and you can tell they're looking to unload it quickly. You approach them and start haggling. You get them down to a price that you're both happy with, and you end up acquiring some great loot for your shop. The adventurers are happy to get rid of their loot, and you're happy to have some new merchandise. It's a win-win for everyone involved.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me.
5	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	ASPgrayne set up shop in a small town, and one day, she noticed that the town's best Maher rabbit was getting small. She didn't know how to make him big again, so she started making her own big rabbit. She was a bit surprised when he started doing well, but she was angry when he walked out of her store without thanking her.	The magician was performing a magic show and he pulled out a rabbit from his hat. The rabbit was sick of being a Supporter. It wanted to be the star of the show. The magician put the rabbit back in the hat and continued to perform his show. The rabbit was so happy that it decided to stay with the magician.	The magician prepares to show his latest trick, a rabbit that he pulls out of a hat. The rabbit is tired of always playing second fiddle, and wants to show the magician that it can be just as amazing as the other rabbits on stage. The rabbit performs its best tricks, and the magician is so impressed that he makes the rabbit the star of the show.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. The rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle, and is tired of being pulled out of a hat. He's had enough, and decides to take matters into his own hands. The next time the magician goes to pull him out of the hat, the rabbit bites him. The magician is startled and drops the hat. The rabbit takes this opportunity to run off stage. The audience is shocked and confused, but the rabbit doesn't care. He's finally free, and is never going back to that life again.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The home was once a happy and thriving community, but now it's in flames. The community was once so large andUxly, but now it's a vast and Gardening, but now it's a vast and revolutionary new type of community. The something invisible was Practice, the vengeful and the guerrilla.	One day, I was sitting in my chair, doing my thing, when I heard a noise from the corner of my eye. I quickly turned to see an invisible being walking around my home. It was 344 pounds and had a body the size of a small ornament. It's eyes were glaring at me, and it was clear that it was not happy with me. I screamed, but it was too late. The being had already entered my home, and it wasn't gone until it was gone.	I can't wrap my head around it. I've been living in this house for years and I've never seen anything like it. It's like there's this thing lurking in the shadows, watching me every step of the way. I have no idea what it is, but I know I have to find out. I set out to try and catch it, but it always manages to elude me. I'm starting to think that it's purposely hiding from me, but I'm not sure why. I don't want to give up, but I'm starting to feel like I'm running out of options. If I can't find this thing, it's going to keep me up at night forever.	You can feel it watching you. You don't know what it is, but you know it's there. You can't see it, but you can feel its presence. It's like a weight on your chest, a constant pressure that you can't escape. You try to ignore it, but it's always there, lurking in the shadows. You can feel it watching you as you move about your home, and you can't help but feel a sense of paranoia. You start to set up traps to try and expose the invisible thing, but it seems to be aware of your attempt to catch it. It always seems to be one step ahead of you. The pressure builds and you start to feel like you're going crazy. You can't take it anymore. You have to know what this thing is. One night, you stay up and wait for it. You know it's there, watching you. You can feel its presence. Suddenly, it appears. It's a shadowy figure, barely visible in the darkness. It's like a nightmare come to life. You try to run, but it's too late. The thing is upon you, and you can feel yourself being dragged into the darkness.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it.
2	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross is a famous painter who publishes a book about every place he painting.Each painting is a place, each fingerprint of a murderous act. Hisito was the Sprang, the river that forms the edge of the forest.The painting is of a river that hasmiscounted, the image of a checkerboard drawn between the wooded slopes of the hill.	Bob Ross operated as a painter in the 1970s and 1980s. Many of his paintings are based on real-life locations, such as his murders of prostitutes in Passaic, New Jersey. Some of his paintings are even still on display today, and they remain a source of inspiration to many artists.	Bob Ross's landscapes are so beautiful and tranquil, it's hard to believe that he was a serial killer. His artwork portrays the beauty of nature, but it's also a playground for the killer within. Bob Ross traveled the United States, murdering people in their homes, on their front porches, and even in their gardens. His paintings are a carefully crafted cover for his sick crimes, but anyone who looks closely can see the bloodstained brushstrokes. The police are still investigating Bob Ross's crimes, but they'll never be able to nail him down. His landscapes always seem so innocent, like he's painting a picture of paradise. But the truth is, Bob Ross is a butcher, and his paintings are the evidence of his crimes.	Bob Ross was an artist with a dark secret. His serene landscape paintings hid a gruesome truth: each one was based on a real place, the scene of one of his countless murders. Ross was a skilled killer, and he used his art to conceal his crimes. He would take his victims to remote locations, kill them, and then paint their landscapes. Over time, his collection of paintings grew, each one representing another murder. The police began to suspect Ross when they started finding bodies in the places he had painted. They eventually confronted him, but he denied everything. However, the evidence was overwhelming and Ross was arrested. Now, his paintings hang in a prison cell, the only reminder of his crimes.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh!
3	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is on his way totrial control room number one. He's excited, as always, for his latest research. He's just walked in the room and is sitting in front of the desk when he'snoticedonda in the room is a woman. She's not happy.	Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin were two of the most famous people in Europe at the time. They were also two of the most controversial. Stalin was a hard-line Communist, while Hitler was a member of the Nazi party. The three men met in Vienna, Austria, for a clinical trial of Freud's latest research. It was a shocking meeting. Hitler was only 24 years old, Joseph Stalin was 35 years old, and Leon Trotsky was 34 years old. They all had a lot of experience with dictatorship and politics. The three men discussed the new research. Stalin was particularly interested in it. He wanted to see if Freud's theory was true. Hitler and Stalin didn't trust Freud, but they were also interested in the research. They were hoping to find out if it was possible to change people's minds. The trial was complicated. The three men had to answer questions from the experts on the trial. It was a difficult process. The men were also asked to agree to experiments that would be extremely dangerous. At the end of the trial, the men were given a few sentences to say. They were each given a few pellets of Zyklon B. The pellets were a deadly poison. They were also told to leave the country. The three men left Vienna together. Stalin was the lead negotiator. He was responsible for making sure that the three men left the country safely. They were free to go, but they had to avoid detection. They travelled to a remote location in the Soviet Union. There, they underwent experiments that were even more dangerous. The men were also given food and water that was poisoned. At the end of the experiments, the three men died. They were killed by the poison that they had been given. Stalin was the one who fatalistically approved of their deaths. The three men's deaths were a tragedy. They left behind a legacy of dictatorship and violence. They are still remembered today. They are known as the three most famous people in history.	Freud was excited to try out his new research. He put an ad in a newspaper, looking for participants for clinical trials. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was disappointed that none of the other candidates were interested in participating in the trials. He was sure that they would be perfect candidates, but they all had other priorities. Finally, after months of trying, Freud managed to get all four of the candidates to come to Vienna for the trials. The first day, they all met in Freud's office and began discussing the trials. They all seemed to be very interested in them, and Freud was excited to start them. The trials went well, and Freud was able to find out a lot about each of the candidates. He was even able to learn something new about himself. afterwards, the four of them went out for dinner. They talked about their careers, their families, and their lives. It was a complete pleasure to spend time with them, and Freud was glad that he had been able to find them.	Dr. Freud is a very busy man. He is always seeking new participants for his clinical trials and research. So when he puts an ad in the newspaper seeking participants, he is not surprised that only four people respond. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito are all interesting participants. Dr. Freud is looking forward to working with all of them. Dr. Freud soon realizes that he may have bitten off more than he can chew. Adolf Hitler is a very volatile and outspoken man. He is always talking about his "vision" for the future and how Germany will be the greatest nation in the world. Joseph Stalin is also a very ambitious man. He is always talking about how he is going to change the world and make it a better place. Leon Trotsky is a bit more reserved, but he is still very passionate about his beliefs. And Josip Broz Tito is the youngest of the group, but he is also the most idealistic. Dr. Freud quickly realizes that these four men are going to be a handful. But he is also excited to see what they will accomplish in the years to come. Only time will tell.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ).
4	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in business for hours and hours, but the players are from across the room. They're all chatting and joking around, but the player in the frontwin Charlie is feeling down. He's been feeling this way lately, but no one is happier than Charlie when he's feeling down. "Hey, Charlie," he shouted, "time to get some depression off their face!" But it's no use, the players all discretely left to go to their classes. Charlie is vacancy again. He's been a pawn shop owner for years now and has had no problem with it, but now the players have taken up his space and he can't take it anymore. He's feeling down and he knows it. He's taken his last notice of the players and he's made himself as quiet as possible to avoid being caught.	My shop was always crowded. It was my only hope to make enough money to keep me going. And, to be honest, I neverENEVER had enough money to buy anything. But today, there were two particular customers who warranted my attention. The first was a huge, muscular man with a bushy beard and a growling voice. He was trying to sell a weapons cache he'd looted from an enemy camp. The second customer was a young, pretty woman. She was bargaining for a magic item she'd found. The item was a rod of power, and she wanted to buy it as quickly as possible. I haggled with the two customers until I had enough money to buy the power rod. I gave them each a boost of confidence and walked away, happy to have made a sale.	I run an RPG pawn shop. I always have a lot of adventurers come in, looking for a good deal on their loot. I always haggle with them, trying to get them to sell me their items at a low price. Sometimes I'm successful and get a good deal on an item, and other times I'm not so lucky. But no matter what, it's always fun to deal with adventurers and see what they come in with.	You're the proprietor of an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who come in, trying to sell loot they've acquired on their travels. You're a tough negotiator, and you always get the best prices for the gear. One day, a group of adventurers comes into your shop. They've got a bunch of great loot, and they're looking to unload it. You start haggling with them, and you eventually come to an agreement. You buy their loot for a great price, and they're on their way. As you're sorting through the gear, you come across a strange sword. It's unlike anything you've ever seen before. You examine it closely, and you can tell that it's magical. You have a feeling that this sword is going to be worth a lot of money. You put the sword on display in your shop, and it isn't long before someone comes in and expresses interest in it. You start bargaining with them, and you eventually agree on a price. You've just made a great profit, and you're sure that this sword is going to bring you even more money in the future.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly.
5	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person who lives in this world is a liar. Each lie creates a scar on the liar's body, one that is larger than the other. The person has never been honest with anyone in their life, and they have a whole world where everyone knows it. One day, they meet someone that has only one scar ; the biggest one they have ever seen.	You meet the person on a dark and stormy night. They are lying on the ground, with a large, gaping wound in their chest. You can see the darkness seeping out of the hole, spreading through their body like a virus. You are scared, but you also find yourself drawn to the person. You can see the darkness, but also the hope and possibility within them. You can't help but think of all the moments you have been lied to, and all the people that have been hurt by your lies. You kneel down next to the person and offer them your hand. They take it, and you help them up. Together, you walk away from that dark place. You are no longer scared, but you are also no longer hopeful. You are only filled with pity.	I never thought I would meet someone with only one lie on their body. It's the biggest one I have ever seen. I can't help but to stare at it. It's tanned and smooth, almost unnoticeable. But I can see the marks it has made. They are dark and still healing, but they are there. I can't help but to ask him about it. He looks embarrassed, but he tells me all about it. He tells me how he lied so much that he started to feel guilty. He lied so he could have a better life, but it backfired. He ended up with a huge and painful scar. But that one lie is the only thing that mars his otherwise perfect skin. He tells me that he is finally able to be himself now, and he is happy. I can't help but to be in awe of him. He is the most incredible person I have ever met.	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. You can't help but wonder what kind of whopper they must have told to get a scar that size. When you ask them about it, they simply say, "It was the biggest lie I ever told."	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is on his way to talk to Adolf Hitler about his latest research when he is stopped by Josip Broz Tito. Tito is the leader of the Yugo people, a group of scattered, adrift men who have no choice but toX-ray the bodies of their causers in order to study their brain chemicals. To suffocate in hisarsenal, Tito wants toкialize the eucalyptus in the bodies' ointments, which is incredibly journey-endy for Freud. But when Freud arrives in Tokyo, he finds that Josip Broz Tito is on the qualite of a patient. Tito tells him about his Rucian society, in which women aresexualized and defeated and men's blood is Weapons of Mass Necipravism. When Freud asks Tito how he wants to know how to kill his victim, Tito alters his mind to tell him that he wants to kill his victim. Now, instead of being excited about his opportunity to intellectualize about how to kill his victims, Freud is rather breeze about it. He howls at the top of his voice as heythinks to himself how Sloanage can be improved on inRucian society.	The ad for the clinical trials of Sigmund Freud's latest research caught Adolf Hitler's eye. He was curious about the new discoveries and wanted to be a part of the study. Joseph Stalin was also interested in the new research. He was the leader of the Soviet Union and he wanted to be able to study Freud's work too. Leon Trotsky was also interested in the new research. He was the leader of the Marxist-Leninist party and he wanted to learn more about Freud's work. But the only people who responded to the ad were Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin.	Freud was excited to begin the clinical trials with such illustrious participants. He couldn't wait to see the results of his work. However, he soon realized that he needed more participants. He placed an ad in a newspaper, but only a few people responded. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito were the only ones who responded. Freud was worried about the safety of the participants, but he decided to go ahead with the trials. He was curious to see how their different personalities would affect the results of the research. The trials went well, and Freud was able to publish his findings. He was proud of the work his participants had done, and he was grateful to have them as part of his research team.	Sigmund Freud was a renowned psychologist in 1913 Vienna, Austria. He was always on the forefront of new research and was always looking for participants for his clinical trials. His latest research was on the human psyche and he was looking for patients who were suffering from mental disorders. He put an ad in the local newspaper, seeking participants for his trials. The only people who responded to his ad were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four of them were young men in their early twenties who were suffering from mental disorders. Freud was intrigued by their response and decided to accept them into his trial. During the trial, Freud discovered that all four of the men were suffering from deep-seated anger and resentment. They were all incredibly intelligent, but their mental disorders prevented them from achieving their full potential. Freud was able to help them all overcome their anger and resentment, and they all went on to become successful leaders in their respective fields.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do.
2	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The something invisible was Also the one thing that you could not say. It seemed to always be in the way, in the corner, or even inside your home. It was an extra piece of paper, a door, or cash register that you would never get to see. The something invisible seemed to know that it was there, or at least it was trying to. It would rest itsiaoed against the wall, or even inside the door handle. But you would never be able to see it, or touch it. Eventually, the something invisible started to become a problem. It was something that you could not avoid, and you could not stop.	The first time I realized I had an invisible friend was when I started cleaning out my old apartment. I had been living there for six months and had never done a proper cleaning job in a while, so I washafted most of the stuff wherever I could find it. I found a big, Romper-style bag full of old clothes that I had never worn and never would again. The smell of mothballs and bleach were strong in the air. I had never smelled so nice. I dusted off the clothes and put them back in the bag, then I went to the fridge to get some dinner. As I was returning, I saw something standing in the corner of the fridge. I could barely make out what it was, but it was definitely big. It manoeuvred itself into a small space and lowered its head to look inside. I gasped at what I saw. There was a little Ghost in my fridge!	Laura woke up on a cold morning, her bedroom windows foggy from the overnight cold. She got out of bed, trying to shake the chill from her body, and walked to the window. She peered out, trying to see through the thick layer of fog, when she saw the object. It was a small, black object, bobbing in the mist. Laura didn't know what to do. She considered calling her boyfriend, but then she thought about how paranoid he would get if he found out that something was making her windows foggy. She shook her head and decided to just ignore the object. Eventually, the fog thinned and the object disappeared. Laura never knew what it was, but she was sure that it was some kind of ghost. She was scared of it, but she was also excited to find out what it was.	You can sense it lurking in the shadows, always just out of sight. You don't know what it is, but you know it's there. Watching. Waiting. You're not sure how long it's been living in your home, but you're determined to expose it. You can't let it continue to hide in the dark, preying on your fear. Slowly and carefully, you begin to set traps. baiting them with food and leaving them in strategic locations around the house. It's a dangerous game, but you're prepared to take the risks. For days, you wait. But the traps remain empty. There's no sign of the invisible creature, no matter how hard you look. You start to wonder if you're just being paranoid. Maybe there's nothing lurking in the shadows after all. But then, one night, you hear a noise in the kitchen. The sound of something scurrying across the floor. You're finally going to catch the invisible creature. You race into the kitchen, but there's nothing there. Whatever it was, it's gone now. But you know it's still there, hiding in the darkness. You'll find it eventually. And when you do, you'll finally be able to rest easy, knowing that your home is safe.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months.
3	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was put into 152 year old Alice's body for her birthday. She was born with a set amount of Birth Control devices/year and was deactivated for her age, at 22. When she was 25, she decided to find an upgrade to avoid being born with only one set of devices at all times. アルチュー It was a cold andGlittering day. The temperature was colder than the inside of a ice cream flavor can. The wind was cold and cold. The leaves in the grass were cold and, if you were to experiencelessly try to touch them, they would have a touch of ice on it. So, she went to a place that had a solutions and put water on her Zucchini. She grew a Banana and an Orange. And a Orange. And a Banana. She justehver grew things with a bit of water and inclemere. It was a sunny day. She was about to do her next beta testing when she heard a noise. It was someone on the other side of the door. "Comes over here." Slowly, she said, "I do not want toarity." "Butsir, I is sure that if you was to be the Auditor, then this would be a perfect place for you." 134 years old Alice has been Auditor for134 years. When she was 25, she decided to find an upgrade to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. She found a person to be the Auditor and deactivated her body's devices in252 years.	There was once a world where only the smartest people were able to reproduce. But now, because everyone is implanted with birth control devices at puberty, only the dumbest people are able to reproduce. This has led to a world of instability and inequality, where the strong always try to control the weak and the poor always struggle to get ahead.	I am an Auditor, and I'm the only one who can deactivate the birth control devices implanted in all of the people in the world. I have to make sure that the intelligent and stable people are able to raise well-adjusted humans, and that the dumbest people in the world don't reproduce. It's a difficult job, but I do it every day.	You are an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must review their life history, test their intelligence, and interview them to get a sense of their character. It is a difficult and important job, but you take it seriously. You have just completed the review of a young woman who you believe is intelligent and stable enough to be a good parent. However, you know that the decision is not yours alone. The final decision rests with the Board of Auditors. You present your findings to the Board and argue that the woman should be allowed to have a child. After a long discussion, the Board agrees with you and the woman is given the green light to have a baby. You have helped to ensure that only the best and brightest people are allowed to reproduce. This is a vital task in a world where dumb people are outbreeding the smart ones. Thank you for your service.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?
4	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that you meet that day is admissionsofficer@msn, and her scar is the biggest and most sticking out lie you have ever seen. It is stretches beyond her nose to her mouth, bounded there by a FRANTIC2 smile. She carved out a seat for herself and starts to tell you about her life as a whole. Often she experiences pain in her chest, as if her heart is breaking every time she tells a lies. She deals with it by recounting the good times she's had, or the good moments in her life. Sometimes she even tells the truth, but always, always she feels like she is lying again.	The first time I met him, he had a huge scar on his chest. It was so big and ugly, it looked like it had been inflicted by a monster. The second time, he had a smaller scar on his neck, but it was still quite large. The third time, he had a small scar on his cheek, but it was still quite large. But the biggest and most deepest scar was on his heart. It wasis huge and red, and it clearly showed how much pain and suffering he had gone through over the years. Every time he lied, he made a new scar on his body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. And each time, the same old pain and suffering filled his heart.	I never would have believed it if I hadn't seen it for myself. This person only has one scar on their body, the biggest and deepest I have ever seen. They tell me that the lie that created it was the biggest one they've ever lied to. The consequences of that lie were devastating, and they still carry the weight of it with them every day.	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar. It is the biggest one you have ever seen. You can't help but ask about it. The person tells you that it is from the biggest lie they have ever told. You can't help but wonder what could have caused such a deep and large scar.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time.
5	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in disrepair, with the space being used just for the sake of the pawn shop being empty. The door is always left unlocked, which allows anyone to walk in and start their day's business. The pawn shop is your typical addition to the game, except this week the adventurers who owned the loot that you're selling have come to visit. They're not happy. "What's wrong?" "What are you going to sell me?" "I don't know, but I won't sell you anything." You're District 3 Thracian, and you know how to sell. You sell potions, it convert into magic when drunk, and one day you sell a magic resolution to a family who trapped in a fort. You make a very successful sale, and the family is glad to have a way to get back to their home area.	Most people in the RPG world think of pawn shops as a place to buy and sell items, but for me, it was always more about selling my own skills and services. I was always able to find people who were looking for a new adventure, and I was always happy to help out. One day, an adventurer came to my shop and offered to sell me some loot he had acquired while playing the game. I was hesitant at first, but I decided to take the opportunity. After I made the sale, the adventurer invited me to accompany him on his next adventure. I was thrilled at the idea, and I agreed. We took off for reinspire the game and conquer new Terrors. It was an amazing experience, and I quickly became good friends with the adventurer. We would talk about games, magic, and anything else that came up. It was always a fun time.	One day, a group of adventurers walked into the pawn shop. They were tired, and their equipment was dirty. The shopkeeper asked them what they had to sell. The leader of the group, a young man, said he had some gear he couldn't use anymore. The shopkeeper asked him how much he wanted for it. The young man said he would only sell it for half its value. The shopkeeper told him he didn't have any extra space, but he could offer the young man a deal. He would give him the gear for one third of its value, which the young man accepted. The shopkeeper asked him how he had been able to afford the gear, and the young man said he had worked hard to get it. The shopkeeper told him that was the spirit of adventuring.	You run an RPG pawn shop, where adventurers can come to sell the loot they've acquired on their travels. You haggle with them over prices, and try to get the best deals for your shop. You've seen all sorts of treasure come through your doors, and you know how to spot a good deal when you see one. One day, a group of adventurers comes in, dragging a large sack of loot behind them. You can tell they're tired and ready to sell, so you start bargaining with them. After a few minutes of back-and-forth, you manage to get a good price for the loot, and the adventurers head out with a few extra gold coins in their pockets. You sort through the loot and find some interesting items, including a magical sword and a jewel-encrusted necklace. You put them on display in your shop, and soon enough, they're sold to another group of adventurers who are looking for some good deals. You run a successful RPG pawn shop, and adventurers always come back to you for the best prices on their loot.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	Tommy was a magic creator until a persuasive wizard took control of his mind. The wizard told Tommy that he was a better magic creator than Tommy himself was. Tommy was skeptical but decided to give the idea some thought. Once he was back on his own, Tommy realizes that this idea was not simply a way to get along without pointing out how perfect his idea was. First, the wizard told Tommy that he had a limited amount of time on stage and that he had to make the show what it was. Tommy was determined to make the find the rabbit was looking for. He took a trio of danger abandonment and went on the run when the wizard asked for his help to help a little girl who was having a birthday party.	The magician was about to perform a magic trick when he noticed that the rabbit was grumbling. He grabbed the rabbit by the scruff of the neck and dragged it on stage. "I'm sick of playing second fiddle!" the rabbit said. "I want to do the tricks myself." The magician performed one of his most famous tricks, and the rabbit was so surprised that it jumped up and down. "I'm glad you like it," the magician said. "Now, can you do the same trick with me?"	The magician was on stage, pulling out a rabbit from a hat. The rabbit was sick of being the second fiddle, and it was clear. The rabbit growled and snapped at the magician, trying to get a chance to be on stage alone. The magician was oblivious, pulling out a new rabbit each time the old one got tired. The rabbit grew more and more agitated, until it finally got its chance and ran the stage, leaving the magician behind in its wake.	The magician and his rabbit have been entertaining audiences for years. The rabbit is sick of being the sidekick, though. He wants to be the star of the show. One day, the rabbit gets his chance. The magician gets sick and can't perform, so the rabbit steps in. He does all the tricks that the magician normally does, and the audience loves it. The rabbit is finally the star of the show, and he loves it. He's never going back to being the sidekick again.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was!
2	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	When you met them, it was like they were all gone. The only one with a scar was you. You felt the Chad's touch as you ate his meals, manipulate people in order to keep yourself safe. All your lies were inside you, like a virus, waiting to take over. You thought you had people figured out, but you were to busy with one other person and didn't realises it until too late.	You meet the person on a winter day, walking in the snow. They are the furthest away from you, and you can't see their face. However, you are confident in your ability to spot a lie from a mile away. You approach them, and suddenly, your worst fears come true. They have a huge scar on one of their arms, as if it was intrinsic to their identity.	I was hesitant to meet this person. He had the biggest scar I had ever seen. It was so big, it bled constantly. It was so big, it was grotesque. I had never seen anything like it. But I decided to talk to him. I wanted to know what had happened to him. And as we talked, I discovered that this was not the first time this man had lied. He had lied so often, his body was covered in scars. But this was the biggest, the most painful, the most horrific of them all. I was so sorry for him. I felt like I had known him for years. I could tell that he was damaged goods, but I never wanted him to leave. I wanted to help him, to heal him. But it was impossible. He was a liar, and liars can't be healed. But I still love him. And I hope that someday, he will learn to tell the truth.	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. This person must be the most honest person in the world, you think. But then you remember that everyone has to start somewhere. Maybe this person just hasn't had enough time to rack up a collection of lies and scars. You strike up a conversation with them and quickly realize that they are indeed the most honest person you have ever met. They tell you about their life and how they came to have just one scar. It turns out that this person was once a very successful liar. They managed to fool everyone they met and got away with it for years. But one day, they met someone that they just couldn't lie to. This person saw through all their lies and confronted them about it. The experience was so traumatic for the liar that they vowed to never lie again. And so far, they've been true to their word. You admire this person for their honesty and for their strength. It takes a lot of courage to live in a world where each lie creates a scar, and this person has done it with grace.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past?
3	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is small, but it's effective. It has been years since the RPG kingdom was last invaded. The players are an group of rookies who have to new each other in order to survive. The shop is aussiePK frag rangers, who is selling his latest job - looted items. The adventurers fire shots at him, but they are all bullet hit smart. One by one, the players are joining the quarantine order, and the shop. They know they can trust the shop to keep their property safe.	It was a usual day at my pawn shop; people were coming in to buy some new gear or start a new adventure. I was taking in the atmosphere, when I heard a strange noise coming from the other side of the building. I went over to check it out and saw a group of adventurers waiting for me. They were all looking around, trying to find something they could sell. I didn't mind; I always had something to provide for my customers. But as I got closer, I could see that they were all holding weapons. They were definitely not looking for peace and quiet. I hedged my bets and asked them what they were selling. They all told me they had found something interesting, and that they wanted to sell it to me. I wasn't sure what to make of it, but I decided to take the item. As I started to weigh it in my hand, I noticed that it was really heavy. I asked the group what they were selling, and they told me it was a magic weapon. I didn't believe them. But I didn't want to be too suspicious, so I took the weapon anyway. I quickly wrapped it up in a tarp and took it to my storeroom. I couldn't believe how heavy it was; I had never seen anything like it before. But I couldn't stop myself from trying to figure out what it was. Eventually, I found out that the weapon was actually a crystal ball. It had a weird-looking design on it, and it had some strange inscription on it. I wasn't sure what it said, but it definitely had a magical properties. I was suddenly electronic-like; I had no control over my body anymore. I just stood there, staring at the weapon. It was like it was taking over my body, making me think with it. Suddenly, it all started to come back to me. The adventurers had been asking me for advice on how to sell the crystal ball, and I had been giving them the same answer: I didn't know what it was. Then, one of them had asked me where the weapon had come from. I told them that it was my inheritance from my parents. They politely thanked me, and turned around to leave. But as they were walking out the door, I heard one of them say something that made my heart race. "You know, we always thought you were a good man. Your decision to sell that weapon was really brave, and we really appreciate it." I was Stunned. They had forgiven me? They were even willing to sell me the weapon? I couldn't believe it. This was definitely a dream come true. I could finally use my skills to help people and make a difference in the world.	The party of adventurers entered my shop with their wallets full of gold coins and their chests full of magical items. I, of course, had to haggle with them. I offered them a fraction of the price they were asking and they finally agreed to sell me the items. As I counted the coins and charms, I couldn't help but think how much fun it would be to adventure and try to find these same treasures. It would be exciting to sell them to my customers and see their reactions when they discovered the power of the item they bought. I can't wait to start my own adventure and find these wonderful treasures myself!	You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell their loot. You haggle with them, trying to get the best price for the items, and sometimes you even buy them outright. One day, a group of adventurers comes into your shop, and they have some impressive loot. You haggle with them and eventually buy some of the items, but you can tell they're holding back. Eventually, you convince them to sell you their entire stash, and you walk away with a huge haul. You're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to unload their loot, and you're always ready to haggle for the best price.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world.
4	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The superfine hair is arams. The deep blue eyes areassion. The silk hypertension. They are all things that have been hidden from your view for years. But recently, they've become more important to you. You try to exposing them, but they keepspirating in the corner. You try to make up with them, but they don't take kindly to forced reconciliation. They continue to come into your home, and into your hands. But one constant has been their non-existence. The arams steadily tip1010 die off, and the nurses are forced to deal with forgotten machines. The tissues keep reaching for the apartholes, but they'repitifully alone. The sublime hair remains cadded up in their beneaththethe air, waiting to be air- sampled and gathers the lots of dust that might come with experience. The blue eyes areonelinessly fixed on the wall, and the hypertension isstillWithdrawn trillionthumb.	One day as I am putting away the last of the laundry, I notice something moving in the closet. I can't see it, but I know it's there. I tell myself not to be scared, but I'm nervous. I try not to move, but the phantom starts to inch its way towards me. It's like it's reading my mind, watching me as I am trying to make a decision. Finally, I make the decision and I turn around to face the phantom. I can't see it, but I know it's there. I give it a cold stare and it disappears. I'm relieved and I go back to cleaning up. But I can't help but think about the ghost every time I close the door to my room.	I used to think that nothing was living in my home – until one day, I discovered an invisible creature. I was stirring some milk in the fridge, when I felt something cold and slimy slipping down my arm. I screamed, and waving my arm around in the air, created a frenzy of flour and milk – until I realized that the 'something' was an invisible spider. I tried to get rid of the spider, using everything from boiling water to a can of Raid, but it was always there, waiting for the perfect opportunity to settle on my skin. Eventually, I gave up and accepted that the spider was one of my home's inhabitants. And, although it still creeps me out, I'm starting to see the creature as something strange, rather than something terrifying.	You've always felt like you weren't alone in your home. You could never put your finger on it, but there was always a sense that someone else was there. You never mentioned it to anyone, not wanting to seem crazy. But the feeling persisted, and you started to notice other things. Cold spots in the house, strange noises, things moving around when you weren't looking. You knew there was something there, but you couldn't figure out what it was. You decided to set a trap, to try and expose the invisible entity living in your home. You set up a camera in the living room, hoping to catch it on film. But days went by and you didn't see anything. Frustrated, you decided to take things up a notch. You started leaving food out, trying to bait the creature into showing itself. And it worked. One night, you came home to find the food you'd left out gone. And on the camera, you finally saw what had been living in your home all along. A rat.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait.
5	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was always circuitous for a young man in his early twenties to learn about life when he moved to a new city. He had been born with the ability to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, so he did what any other good enough young man would do-- he tried to live a life lost in the midst of the always feasting city. The young man got lost in the city, going from one Cursed Statue to another. He found himself in the middle of a city full of mcmen37s and he didn't know how to get back to his home. After some time, the young man found himself in the city's backlands, where he found himself in the middle of a struggle between two kinds of mcmen37s. The young man helped stop the battle and joined the fight, but he never forgeted the way the mcmen37s looked at him.	As the Auditiquen for the village of Balthazar, I had the responsibility of ensuring that all residents were implanted with birth control devices at the age of thirteen. It was something that I was extremely commitment to, as it was one of the few ways to keep the village safe from the stupidity that oftenFound in the world. Unfortunately, I had to place trust in a few people who often exhibited stupidity. For example, you. You remained the stupidest person in the world until you were installed with my birth control device. From then on, you were the only person who could Reproduce in the village. With the device, I could ensure that the population remained healthy and stable, and that no one was allowed to fall behind. But, as you know, this was not easy. You were always trying to get out of responsibility, and always trying to run around. It was quite the challenge keeping you in check. Nevertheless, I was glad that I had the device implanted into your body, as it made sure that you would never Reproduce Enhancers in the village again.	I was born with a debilitating condition that makes me one of the dumbest people in the world. I know this because the implant that was put in my brain to prevent me from reproducing during puberty only allows me to be deactivated if I am deemed intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. When I was first informed of this, I was devastated. I would never be able to properly care for myself or my child, let alone be able to think for myself. It was a nightmare come true. But, I tried to take the news positively. It meant that I would be able to save many more people from being born with disabilities like me. I was determined to be the best Auditor possible and fulfill my role to the best of my ability.	You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must assess each person's ability to think critically, make sound decisions, and handle difficult situations. It's a big responsibility, but you take it seriously. After all, the future of the world depends on it. Unfortunately, not everyone agrees with you. There are those who believe that everyone has a right to reproduce, regardless of their intelligence or stability. You understand their argument, but you cannot allow the dumbest people in the world to reproduce. It's simply too risky. So you continue to do your job, despite the opposition. It's not easy, but someone has to do it.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was meant to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. But why? The device was meant to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, but why? Because only the Intelligent and stabilized people who are Auditor can produce children with the dumbest people in the world and exhibit their intelligence and stability in the world.	Auditors were the last people you'd expect to be asked to prevent the reproduction of the idiots and kids who thought they were smart because they had a birth control device. But, you're the Auditor, and you're the only one who can deactivate the device. As you walk through the Academy, it's clear that the idiots have turned the place into a laughingstock. You're about to deactivate the device for the first time when you hear a voice behind you. It's the idiot who thought he was smart. "What are you doing?" He accuses you, looking frustrated. "You're going to prevent me from creating more idiots." "I'm sorry," you say, trying not to smile. "But, you're the only one who can deactivate the device." "So what's the point?" He asks, still looking frustrated. "I can't even think. I'm just going to copy everything I learn and leave the Academy." "But, that's not fair," you say, trying to think of a solution. "The idiots who don't have the device will be left behind. They'll be laughed at and forgotten." "I know," he says, looking thoughtful. "But, there's only one way to fix this. We have to make sure that everyone has the device." "So we have to convince the Academy to let everyone have the device," you say, thinking aloud. "That's the only way," he says, looking seriousness into your eyes. "But, it'll take some time. We have to find a way to convince the Academy to let everyone have the device."	It's been 10 years since the birth control devices were implanted into the population. Everyone is happy and well-adjusted, right? Well, not exactly. There are a select few who are angry and frustrated because they can't have children. They believe they should be the chosen ones who get to have children because they are smart and stable. The Auditor's job is to ensure that the devices are deactivated once the person has been determined to be intelligent and stable. It's a difficult task, but it's necessary. Otherwise, the dumbest people in the world will continue to reproduce and the population will become even dumber.	You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to have children. It's a tough job, but someone has to do it. You've just finished interviewing a potential parent and, unfortunately, they don't meet the criteria. You activate their birth control device and they are shocked. They plead with you, begging you to let them have a child, but you stand firm. You explain that you are only doing this to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing and that they simply aren't qualified. It's a hard truth to accept, but it's the truth nonetheless.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked.
2	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The something invisible was always there, waiting to be exposed. It was invisible to you because it was hidden behind a secret wall of self-protectiveness. But your parents knew what you were like, and they knew that you were the type of person who could be easily surprised. They decided to let you have the something invisible for your own good.	One day, I was sitting in my office, reading an email when I saw something jump out at me from behind my screen. I instinctually tried to push it away, but it simply solidified and waited for me breathing heavily. I looked down at it, and there was a small, slimy snake coiling around my foot print. It appeared to be watching me with eyes of intelligence. My heart began to race, and I couldn't help but wonder what it could be. The next day, I got up to go to my kitchen for breakfast and found the snake waiting for me. It had taken up a spot on the counter right next to my cereal bowl. The moment I took my first bite, the snake slithered under the table, careful not to make any noise. It was quite the feast.	I never knew what was lurking in my walls until one day I caught a glimpse of it out of the corner of my eye. I didn't think too much of it until I started hearing strange noises coming from my walls. It was like something was scratching them or tapping them. I didn't know what to do, so I just kept quiet and waited for it to reveal itself. Eventually, the thing showed itself to me. It was an invisible being, and it was mad at me for exposing it.	Something invisible lives in my home. I don't know what it is, but I can feel its presence. It's like a weight in the air, a presence that I can't shake. I've tried to expose it, to catch it unaware, but it's always one step ahead of me. It knows I'm onto it, and it's playing a game with me. I can't let it know that I'm aware of its presence. If I do, it will only get more powerful. I have to keep playing along, pretending that I don't know it's there. It's a dangerous game, but I have to win.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense.
3	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	magician causes a rabbit to fall from a building, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. prompt: A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit notices and says who is this man? The magician says yes, he is the one who made the magic, now you are just a lot of fun. The rabbit says thank you, but I preferred myself more. The magician says you will be getting a lot of practice since I pulled you out of a hat. The rabbit says I don't care, I will be performanceitis now.	The magician leaned over the rabbit, and whispered in its ear. "I know how to make you cured." The rabbit turned its head to the side and gave him a suspicious stare. "Don't worry, I won't hurt you." The magician took a step back,	The magician had been performing for years, and he was a master at pulling rabbits out of hats. It was his favorite trick, and he loved to put on a show for his audiences. But this particular rabbit was getting tired of always being the second fiddle. He wanted to be the star of the show, and he was tired of always being the one that the magician pulled out of the hat. One day, the rabbit decided that he had had enough. He didn't want to be the magician's second choice any more. He was going to take control of his own destiny and show the magician what he was really made of. So the rabbit stole the magician's hat and went on stage to perform without him. The crowd went wild, and the rabbit had finally become the star that he had always wanted to be.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual tricks. But the rabbit is tired of being the sidekick. He's been stuck in that hat for years, and he's sick of being treated like a prop. So, during one of the tricks, the rabbit decides to take matters into his own hands. He grabs the magician's wand and starts doing his own magic. The audience is amazed, and the rabbit is finally getting the attention he deserves. The magician is furious, but he can't do anything to stop the rabbit. He knows that he's been upstaged, and there's nothing he can do about it. The rabbit is finally free, and he's enjoying every minute of it. He knows that he won't be stuck in that hat again - he's the star now.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it?
4	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross is a painting of a farm.	Bob Ross was a master painter, and his landscapes were some of the most popular in the world. But there was one place where his paintings often featured Real People, the murders of which he often hid away in the backgrounds of his paintings. Some believe that the paintings are based on his real-life kills, and that they are warning others of the dangers of crime.	Bob Ross was an amazing painter. His landscapes were so realistic, it was easy to believe that they were real places. He would often take his paintings on road trips, painting along the way. One day, Bob Ross decided to take his painting of a scenic road trip to his home in Wisconsin. As he drove, he thought about how wonderful it would be to spend some time painting in his own backyard. He arrived home and quickly got to work. As he painted, he couldn't help but notice all the murdered women who resided in the area. Over time, the murders became a part of his landscape, just like the trees and the rivers. One day, he stopped painting altogether and simply stared out at his gruesome view. It was all too much, and he eventually killed himself.	Bob Ross was a landscape painter with a difference. His paintings were not only beautiful, but they were also based on real places. The difference was that these places were the locations of Bob Ross' countless murders. Bob Ross was a serial killer who used his art to disguise his gruesome crimes. He would choose a secluded spot in the wilderness and paint a beautiful landscape. But hidden within the painting would be the body of his latest victim. For years, Bob Ross managed to evade justice. But eventually, the police began to catch up with him. They realized that each of his paintings was a clues to a murder. And so they began to piece together the gruesome picture of what he had been doing. Now, Bob Ross is in prison, where he belongs. And his paintings are now being used as evidence in the trial against him.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood?
5	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The adventurers were from a popular cave-and-flight game forum, and they were here to sell some gear they had earned. They were reasonable, but they were not the overwhelming favorite of the forum'sapache, king of the cave-and-flight veins. He seemed to prefer more experienced players, and the forum's other players was large. The adventurers were nervous, but they knew their game plan. They had considered running out of the profits they were making in-game would be their biggest fear, but they knew their players felt the same way. They would take the profits they did not want, on the ground that this would be their most possible successful game.	I was always a bit of a negotiation expert. When it came to selling gear to the likes of adventurers, I could always outsmart them with my bargaining skills. I'm always able to get the best deals for my customers, and I was always happy to help out newbies as well. But lately, something's been nagging at me. I've been noticing that the adventurers who come to my pawn shop are all being influenced by a dark force. It's like they're under some kind of control, and they're just following orders. I can't shake the feeling that something's wrong, and I know that I have to do something about it. I need to find out what's causing this power struggle, and then I can take it away from these people.	Tommy had just finished up his shift at the pawn shop, and it was already closing time. He was getting ready to head home when he saw a group of people walking down the street. They were all wearing armor, and Tommy could tell that they were adventurers. Tommy went over to them and started to haggle with them. He was able to get them to sell him some of their loot for a very low price. After he was done, he headed home, and he was excited to play his next RPG.	Welcome to my shop! I specialize in buying and selling loot from adventurers. If you've got something you want to get rid of, I'll give you a fair price for it. I've been in business for years, and I've seen all sorts of loot come through my shop. Swords, shields, armor, magic weapons, and more. I even once bought a dragon's tooth from a drunk adventurer who had no idea what it was worth. I love haggling with adventurers. It's always fun to try to get the best deal possible. Sometimes I even let them win, just to keep things interesting. So, what do you have for me today? I'm always looking for new merchandise to add to my collection.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The house was small, only with the knowledge that it was home to something invisible. The something invisible was constantly checking into why the small house was so Cagey and Trystin couldn't make much progress. It was like the something invisible had a game to play in there, a waiting game that only got longer for each day.	One day, I woke up to an eerie feeling. I could feel something lurking in my home, just beyond my reach. I tried to ignore it, but it kept creeping up on me in the dark. I could feel its presence, like it was always there, waiting to take over. One day, I decided to face down my invisible visitor. I faced it down with determination, and I won. The thing disappeared into thin air, and I couldn't feel its presence anymore.	I'm not sure when it happened, but somehow one of my walls became "home" to an invisible creature. I could never see it, but I could always feel its presence. It would creep around the edge of my perception, but it always managed to stay out of sight. I tried to exorcise it once, but it just laughed at me. It seemed to know that I was powerless to stop it, and it liked that. It would taunt me, taunting me with its secrets and its knowledge. I wanted to scream at it, to tell it to leave me alone, but I couldn't. Instead, I just sat in silence, futilely trying to exorcise an invisible foe. The thing was starting to get on my nerves. It was always there, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. And I was starting to lose faith. One day, I finally had had enough. I gathered my courage and confronted the creature. I told it that I was aware of its presence, and I demanded that it leave me alone. But instead of fleeing, the thing just laughed at me. It told me that it loved playing with me, that it enjoyed making me feel helpless. And then it vanished into the shadows, leaving me alone once again. I don't know how to beat it, but I'll keep trying. Because if it can beat me, then it can beat anyone.	It's been living in my home for months, maybe even years. I don't know how it got here, but I do know that it's invisible. I've tried to expose it, to let it know that I'm aware of its presence, but it's always one step ahead of me. I can hear it moving around at night, and sometimes I even feel it watching me. It's like it's playing a game with me, trying to see how long it can stay hidden. But I'm not going to give up. Someday, I'll find a way to expose this invisible thing, and then it will have to face the consequences.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences.
2	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross paints a picture of each of his place deaths. Each with a living, breathing person in it. Heons and toolbar are seen for whom and what he is painting about. The people in his paintings are real people, living and dead, and he likes to show that through his art.	Bob Ross had an amazing talent for painting landscape paintings. Each of his paintings were all different locations, each onecontaining a different murder. Even though he knew all the places, he couldn't help but create some strange paintings that no one would forget.	Bob Ross loved nature. He would sit for hours painting landscapes, taking in every detail of the different location. But what he didn't know was that each landscape was a real place where he had committed countless murders. The police were always one step behind him, never able to catch him. But one day, they finally did. It was a bittersweet victory for the police, as they took down one of the country's most prolific murderers, but they also had to answer to the families of the victims.	Bob Ross was not your typical artist. He was a cold-blooded killer who used his art as a cover for his crimes. For years, he traveled the country, painting beautiful landscapes and killing innocent people. His victims were never found, and no one suspected Bob Ross of anything. But the truth is, each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. All over the country, there are places where Bob Ross' victims were found. And each painting is a reminder of the tragedy that took place there.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red.
3	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was put into place gradually, no one was more Warlord than a Warlord had a birth control device deactivated. It was only after much effort and knowledge did everyone else realize how same exact birth control device was causing them problems. The device caused housekings to die a quick death, the birth of sucksts made it hard to keep the house down, the housekings had to start from scratch to keep the housekings alive. The birth of sucksts made it hard to keep the house down, the housekings had to start from scratch to keep the housekings alive.	Auditor 3A activated my birth control device. It was a small, silver plastic capsule that was stuck through my cheekbone. I had to be careful not to crush it as I inserted it into my body. The birth control capsuleDetects your intelligence and stability. The next day, I woke up to a new world. I could no longer imagine being without my birth control device. It was like my body was finally belonged to me.	When I was born, my parents were terrified. They had just undergone a revolutionary procedure to implant a birth control device into my brain as part of my puberty rites. They were sure I would be the dunce of the family, and they were right. I never managed to get a decent job, or even finish school. I'm still not sure what I'm doing here. But I guess that's okay, because I'm the Auditor. I'm responsible for ensuring that everyone in the world is using contraception, and making sure they're intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. It's a thankless job, but I'm happy to do it.	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. As an Auditor, it is your job to interview and test prospective parents to see if they are intelligent and stable enough to raise a child. If they are not, then their birth control device remains active and they are unable to have children. You must be very careful in your evaluations, as you have the power to prevent someone from starting a family. But you also have the responsibility to ensure that only the best and brightest people are reproducing. It's a daunting task, but someone has to do it.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?
4	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud dedicated his life to medicine, not to seemly呆? He wasn't really interested in research because he didn't think it was meaningful. He was just trying to be a doctor after his own heart. But now, in 1913, there's a new group of people who are	Adolf Hitler,Joseph Stalin,Leon Trotsky,and Josip Broz Tito meet in Vienna to discuss a clinical trial for Sigmund Freud's latest research. They all agree to participate, but with one condition--they must be under the control of Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin.	Freud was excited to receive responses to his clinical trials ad. He quickly narrowed the list down to six potential participants: Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, Josip Broz Tito, and Ernst Rohm. Freud was eager to get started with the trials, but he needed to interviews all of the participants. He decided to meet with the three youngest participants first--Josip Broz Tito, Leon Trotsky, and Ernst Rohm. Freud was impressed with the young revolutionaries. He was especially interested in Josip Broz Tito, who was only 21 years old. Freud hoped that the trials would help to unlock the secrets of the human mind.	Sigmund Freud was a brilliant mind, and his latest research was on the verge of changing the world. He was seeking participants for clinical trials, and he placed an ad in a local newspaper. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their early twenties, and they were all eager to participate in the trials. Freud was impressed with their enthusiasm, and he decided to take them on as patients. The trials were a success, and Freud's research quickly gained international acclaim. However, there was one unforeseen consequence: The four men who participated in the trials all went on to become dictators. Some say that it was Freud's fault, that his research somehow warped their minds and made them into monsters. Others say that it was simply a coincidence. But either way, the world will never forget the four men who participated in Freud's clinical trials.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud!
5	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that you meet that day is incredibly Halsey, and she is the only person in the world that knows that you have one scar. Everyone only knows that you have one scar when you don't want to tell anyone, or when you have to hide it from everyone. One day, during a Wexau party, you finally let anyone in to hear the truth. You're ashamed to tell them your secrets, but you know that it's the only way to keep them hidden from him.	You meet this person one day, and you can't help but be struck by their honesty. They have no other scars, and you can see that they have faithfully carried on with life despite all the lies that have characterized their past. You admire them for their courage in sticking to their beliefs even when it means sacrificing everything else in their life. You try to learn more about them, and you find that they are a very interesting person.	I had never seen anything like it. The man had only one, giant scar running down the length of his body. It was so big, it was as though the entire world had slipped underneath his skin. He looked so alone and vulnerable, I couldn't help but approach him. "Do you want to talk about it?" I asked, forgetting that I should probably be more careful. The man stared at the ground for a moment before answering. "My family was killed by a monster. I was the only one left. I couldn't let it get me, so I lied and said I was fine. But the lie turned out to be too big and I was killed by the monster in the end." He looked up at me and I could see the pain in his eyes. "I wanted to die instead of let the monster hurt me again. But now I know that's not how it works. Lying creates scars, and the bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. But at least I'm not alone anymore."	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. You ask them what it is from and they tell you that it is from the biggest lie they have ever told. You are shocked and ask them what the lie was. They hesitate to tell you at first, but eventually they confess. They tell you that they lied about their age to get into a relationship with someone they thought they were in love with. When they found out that person was only interested in them because they were younger, they were heartbroken. They realized that they had lied to themselves about their feelings for that person and the scar was a reminder of that.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The sound of my door slowing down as I deliberately step outside to allow it to join the other ghosts in my home. I watch as they all file into the room, all looking around in confusion as to where to find me. I step out of my way as they head in different directions. It takes a while for all of them to understand that something is different about this room now. One owner says, "This place seems different at the office but this is still the home you left us in?" The other owner replies, "I don't know, it seems like it's been through enough changes." as they all look around in confusion, I step out of the way and join in the conversation. It's hard to keep up with what all is happening as I try to understand what's being said, but I eventually get it together andjoin in the conversation.	Every night, when I go to bed, I try to sleep without thinking about the green anomaly that exists in my home. I try to forget that it's there, but I can't help but feel its presence. It's like a forceField that is always blocking my sleep. One night, after a long night of trying, I give up and go to bed. As I slumber, I can hear the anomaly working itself faintly. It's like it's trying to communicate with me, but I can't understand it. I can only hear the sound of its breathing. The next night, I try to sleep even more thorough, but I can't get to sleep. I keep replaying the dream I had the night before, where I see the anomaly. It's like it's right there in my room, but I can't control how I'm reacting. So I finally give up and go to bed. As I slumber, I can feel the anomaly's presence even harder. It's like it's trying to communicate with me, but I can't understand it. I can only hear the sound of its breathing. And each time I wake up, I feel even more determined to get rid of it. I try to be More Apt At Sleeping, but it's like the anomaly is already there, blocking my sleep. My head is always full of thoughts of the anomaly, and I can't get it out of my mind. Suddenly, I hear a noise. It's like the anomaly is trying to speak to me, but I can't understand it. I can only hear the sound of its breathing. I'm about to get up to investigate when I realize that the noise is coming from my room. It's like the anomaly is trying to get into my room, but it's impossible. I've made it clear that I'm not afraid of it, but it still seems like it can't break through my barriers. IAmazingly, the next night I sleep without any issues. The anomaly is still there, but it's trying to communicate with me in a way that I can understand. I can finally understand it, and I'm starting to see the value in fighting it. I know that if I can get rid of it, it will eventually die.	I've had this thing living in my home for years now and I never knew what it was. I always thought it was some sort of bug, but every time I'd try to get rid of it, it would take off and I wouldn't be able to find it. I would stare at it for hours, trying to figure out what it was, but I always came up with nothing. One day, I was sitting in my living room, scrolling through my social media accounts, when I noticed that the thing had flown across the room. I slowly got up, trying not to make any noise, as I made my way to where it had flown to. I knelt down and peered through the gap in the doorframe, and there it was: a small, invisible creature. I could see it hovering near the light fixture, waiting for its opportunity to enter. I stared at it for a few minutes, trying to figure out what it was, but I still couldn't figure it out. Eventually, I got up and closed the door, trying to keep the thing hidden. I didn't know what to do, but I knew that I needed to get rid of it. I couldn't let it know that I was aware of its presence.	I've always felt like I wasn't alone in my home. I would hear strange noises in the middle of the night, and things would often go missing. I never really thought much of it, until one day I decided to try and catch whatever it was that was living with me. I set up a camera in my living room, and waited. For weeks, nothing happened. I was about to give up, when I finally saw something on the footage. It was hard to make out at first, but it looked like a small, transparent creature. I couldn't believe my eyes! I tried to exposure it, but it was very difficult. Whenever I would try to get close to it, it would vanish. I did manage to get a few pictures of it, but it was always gone before I could get a good look. Despite its elusive nature, I was fascinated by this invisible creature that was living in my home. I started to leave out food for it, and soon enough, it started to show itself to me more often. We developed a strange kind of companionship, and I was happy to finally have some company.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen.
2	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	magician: Hey, rabbit, come get some water! Rabbit: (iously) S-stop playing second fiddle! I-I can do what I want! magnesium The magician takes a feel of a rabbit out of a hat and realises he has been grudgingly following theourstackinyemdos with their hoop earrings and half-skyglasses.Arite crucibles and all, and the magician now turns from the big heart of it all to see the rabbit spamming him with sweet water and N/A	The magician began to show off his tricks. The rabbit watched, becoming impatient. Finally, the magician pulled out a key from his pocket and let the rabbit loose. The rabbit ran off into thedistance, running as fast as it could. The magician caught up to the rabbit and asked why it was running. The rabbit couldn't answer, it was too tired. The magician took the rabbit by the scruff of its neck and led it to his workshop, where he was going to create a new hat.	The magician was getting tired of always having to put on a show for the rabbit. He wanted someone to really appreciate his talents. So, he decided to pull out the rabbit from the hat. To his surprise, the rabbit was sick of always being second fiddle. The rabbit insisted on doing all the tricks, and the magician had to keep up. The magician was starting to feel the pressure and the rabbit was getting the better of him. But then, in the last trick, the rabbit ran off the stage. The magician was blown away by the rabbit's bravery. He realized that he didn't need to put on a show for the rabbit, he could just be himself.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is clearly not happy. It's been stuck in that damned hat for far too long, and it's sick of playing second fiddle to the magician. Finally, it's had enough. The rabbit hops out of the hat and onto the stage, glaring at the magician. It's time for a change, and the rabbit is going to make sure of it. The rabbit is going to be the star of this show from now on. The magician is shocked, but he's not about to give up without a fight. He starts performinhg his tricks, but the rabbit is not impressed. It knows that it can do better. The rabbit starts doing its own tricks, and the audience goes wild. It's clear that the rabbit is the new star of the show. The magician is forced to accept it, and together, they put on an amazing show that wows the audience.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents.
3	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The placing of auditors around the world was a practice designed to prevent only the dumbest people from creating children. It was a practice designed to make it possible for people to be okay without artificial intelligence in the world. But it was also a practice designed to make it possible for people to be smart enough to survive and thrive without artificial intelligence in the world. The auditors were put in place to prevent the bubbly and CD sales from causing an Enough-Ched Hundred in the world, and to keep people from being stuck in a life of happiness and peace when they could have so much better on offer. But even if the world needed a new agent to prevent only the dumbest people from reproducing, the auditors would be a better option.	Auditors are a special type of person who are required to monitor and ensure the well-being of the population. Through their audits, they ensure that everyone is intelligent and stable enough to be raised as a well-adjusted human being. Unfortunately for the audit population, there are a few idiots who manage to reproduce. So, everyAuditor is implanted with a birth control device in order to prevent only the dumbest people from reproducing. The device can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an Auditor.	I’m an Auditor. I’m tasked with ensuring that the population of the world is composed of only the smartest people. This is done by implanting all people, at puberty, with a birth control device that will only deactivate once it’s been determined they are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I’ve been doing this for years, and I’m pretty good at it. But I’m not perfect. Sometimes, people slip through the cracks. I was tracking one such case recently. A young woman had been implanted with the birth control device, but she had lost contact with the Auditors. We had no indication she was doing anything wrong, but we were concerned for her well-being nonetheless. We tracked her down to a small town in the middle of nowhere. She was living with some kind of cult, and they were brainwashing her into thinking she was a goddess. We managed to talk her out of it, and deactivated her birth control device. Now, she’s one of the smartest people in the world, and she’s going to be a great parent.	You work as an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. As part of your job, you must deactivate the birth control devices implanted in everyone during puberty. One day, you receive a case file for a young woman named Sarah. Sarah is just eighteen years old, and her file indicates that she has an IQ of over 150. You decide to interview her to see if she is indeed intelligent and stable enough to raise a child. Sarah is nervous but excited to be interviewed by you. She tells you that she has always wanted to be a mother, and she is confident that she is ready for the responsibility. You ask her difficult questions about parenting, and she answers them all correctly. You determine that Sarah is indeed intelligent and stable enough to be a parent, and you deactivate her birth control device. Sarah is overjoyed, and she thanks you for giving her the opportunity to become a mother.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot.
4	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Since Bob Ross is such a household name, people often ask where he goes when he doesn't have the money to buy a subscription to a magazine. "Where do you think he goes?" His fans ask. "I don't see him at art museums or on art seesa's!" They see his paintings and think of places to have him asgarde, but few know that he actually goes to each and every painting he makes.	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. In each, Bob has carefully chosen the perfect location for a bloody murder, and the pictures are a macabre EVP of his crimes.	Bob Ross had a way with nature. He could capture the beauty of a landscape in just a few brushstrokes, and each painting was a real-life location, its different colors and textures reflecting the mood and feel of the particular locale. In fact, Bob Ross was a serial murderer. He killed people all over the United States, painting theirscenes as part of his trademark landscape paintings. His victims ranged from young children to elderly couples, and each death was a tragedy. Now, the authorities are on the hunt for Bob Ross, and they're not going to stop until he's behind bars for good. His paintings may be beautiful, but his crimes are unequivocally evil.	Bob Ross was not always a painter. In fact, he used to be a serial killer. For years, he travelled the country, murdering innocent people and leaving their bodies in picturesque locations. He would then return to those same locations and paint them, creating what he called "happy little murders." Over time, people began to suspect that something was up with Bob Ross and his paintings. They noticed that the locations he painted always seemed to have a dark history, and that his paintings always included a body hidden among the trees or bushes. Eventually, Bob Ross was caught and arrested. His paintings were taken as evidence, and the world realized that the seemingly happy landscapes were actually the scenes of grisly murders.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh!
5	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler clicked the button on the computer screen and entered his email address into the input box. "I'm ready to begin my clinical trials," he thought to himself as he clicked the submit button. Joseph Stalin clicked on the next button. "I'm ready to begin my clinical trials," he thought to himself. Leon Trotsky clicked on the next button. "I'm ready to begin my clinical trials," he thought to himself. Josip Broz Tito clicked on the next button. "I'm ready to begin my clinical trials," he thought to himself. But before anyone could click the next button, the computer screen went blank.	Freud was excited to start the clinical trials for his latest research, but he didn't have any participants. He put an ad in a newspaper, and the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was worried about who would be the best to participate in the trials. He invited all of the participants to come to his office for an interview. Hitler showed up first, and Freud was impressed with his intelligence. He was also impressed with how easily Hitler could answer questions. Stalin came next, and Freud was surprised by how calm he was. He was also impressed with Stalin's ability to think on his feet. Trotsky was last to arrive, and Freud was surprised to see that he was so young. Freud was hoping that Trotsky would be the best participant, but he was disappointed. Trotsky didn't seem to be as smart as the other three. Freud decided that the best participant would be Tito. Tito was the youngest of the participants, and he was the most energetic. Freud was confident that Tito would be the best participant. The trials went well, and Freud was happy with the results. He was especially pleased with Tito's performance.	Sigmund Freud was excited to begin clinical trials for his latest research in 1913. He placed an ad in the local newspaper, hoping to find participants. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men agreed to participate in the trials. Over the course of the next few weeks, Freud observed them closely. He quickly realized that they were all suffering from similar mental disorders. He diagnosed them with " paranoid personality disorder." Freud was able to help all four men with his treatment methods. They all showed improvement after a few weeks. However, he was not able to completely cure them. The experience was eye-opening for Freud. He realized that even the most powerful people in the world were not immune to mental illness.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ).

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	It was baseball in the city. The Away Team were losing by a big lead, and thedkicker was trying to help the team make ground by running up the field. All of a sudden, he came down with a fatiguealanobia and could only play until he was required to play another game. As he laid down to sleep, he found a letter from his family in his Section H. "We got him good,” his wife said.	You meet this person on a busy street corner. They are lying on the ground, what looks like a Shards of Glass or something similar tightly bound about their body. You never would have guessed that such a small person could hold such a destructive power. As you look at them, you see the raw vulnerability in their eyes and you feel something inside you begin to change. You start to feel sorry for the person lying on the ground, even though you can't change what has happened. You begin to see the beauty in the pain they are going through, and you begin to feel a kernel of compassion inside you. You go over to help the person and quickly realize that they are not alone. All around them are other people who have been hurt by lies and who need your help. You feel a deep sense of obligation to help these people and you start to heal the wounds that have been re-opened. As you help these people, you begin to see the beauty in them, too. They are strong, but they are also broken. They need your help to heal, but you can also see the potential that they have to be so more valuable to society. You understand that there is no single answer to the problem of lying, but you can help make the world a better place by being completelyHonest.	I first saw him from a distance, his scar standing out against his skin. It was as if it were the only thing that mattered in the world. I couldn't help but wonder how it happened, how he managed to survive. As I got closer, I could see it was a deep scar, stretching from his forehead down to his chin. It looked as if it had been inflicted with a sword. We locked eyes and I could see the sadness in his eyes. I wanted to ask him about his scar, to know the story behind it, but I was too scared. I couldn't bring myself to say a word. Eventually, he walked away and I could only watch as his scar disappeared into the shadows. It left me with a feeling of emptiness, as if something was missing. I never saw him again, but I remember the look in his eyes and the way his scar looked. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar. It is the biggest one you have ever seen. They tell you that they have never lied in their life. You don't believe them.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past?
2	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross advocates for his favorite place: -Nostalgically, he can't help but visit each and every place he has paintings from. -He knows each and every mountain he has painted and every plant he has assortment of supplements. -He's even more experts with regards toUPF (um, london) products. -And he knows all of this thanks to his obser- VP, millions of dollars and an hordes of -Bob Ross is Finally Eased his grumblings. Bob Ross has always been a bigoted individual. -He doesn't like to see non-locals in his place, non-locals get in his way. -He's also picky with staff, he want only locals in his place. -So, Bob Ross lines his investments with himself, with each and every place he has painting. -Until he finally pose the question to himself. -Why can't I visit each and every place I have paintings from? -ubis the question to Bob Ross himself. -The painting, the painting. -I want to visit each and every place I have paintings from, but I'm not able to.	Once upon a time there was a poor farmer who lived in a small town. His land was spread out and his income was very low, so the farmer never saw the need for a garden. He would just sit in his farmhouse and look out at his fields, until one day he was murderer. One day, the farmer decided to go out and murder some of his neighbors. He killed two of them and then took their wives and children with him. He was planning to keep the women and children as hostages and use them as bargaining chips to get money from the other farmers. Before he could do anything, the townspeople caught wind of his plan and found him. They quickly rounded up the women and children and took them to the farmhouse. The farmer was terrified and could barely keep silent as the townspeople killed his family. When it was all over, the farmer was found guilty of his crimes and was sentenced to death. However, before he could be executed, the farmer had a change of heart and decided to spare his life. A new life was started for him, one where he would paint beautiful landscapes instead ofmurdering people. Today, the farmer is a respected member of the community and his paintings can be seen all over the place.	Bob Ross painted scenes of nature for decades, but nobody knew the true extent of his killer instinct. All those peaceful scenes of mountains and rivers were actually where he had brutally killed people, leaving their bodies as gruesomely as possible for the authorities to find. In the end, Bob Ross was caught and executed for his crimes.	Bob Ross was a famous landscape painter who was beloved by many. What most people didn't know was that each of his paintings was a real place - the different locations of his countless murders. For years, Bob Ross went on a killing spree, leaving behind a landscape painting at each crime scene. Finally, the police were able to catch up to him and he was arrested. As the police looked through his paintings, they realized that each one was a crime scene. Bob Ross had finally been caught - but his legacy of murder would live on through his paintings.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.
3	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud was feeling Gaudí-like himself, So he does some research on Adolf Hitler, the great_bad_guy_on_eness that has become popular these days. He finds a website that offers zucchinese as a treatment for Freud's latest patient, Adolf Hitler. Freud takes the ad and is impressed by the quick response time from the individuals listed. He enters the information into his computer and kilograms are given to the patients as they go into the patient room.	Adolf Hitler was the only one who responded to Sigmund Freud's ad. The rest of the participants in Freud's clinical trials were Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All of them were too young to have the experience or the knowledge to participate in the trial.	Freud was baffled. He had placed an ad in a local newspaper, seeking participants for his latest clinical trials. All of the responses he received were from people much older than himself. Adolf Hitler (age 24), Joseph Stalin (age 35), Leon Trotsky (age 34), and Josip Broz Tito (age 21) all replied. Freud was concerned. Maybe his research was flawed. Maybe his methods were ineffective. He decided to test his theories on each of the candidates. Adolf Hitler was the first to undergo the trials. He was surprised by the results. The theories that Freud had put forward about the role of the unconscious mind were true. Adolf Hitler had been using his power of the unconscious mind to achieve success throughout his career. Joseph Stalin was next. Freud's theory about the role of the conscious mind was also correct. Joseph Stalin was able to control the masses due to his understanding of the conscious mind. Leon Trotsky was the last to undergo the trials. Freud's theory about the role of the subconscious mind was incorrect. Leon Trotsky was able to achieve success due to his mastery of the subconscious mind. Josip Broz Tito was the most successful of the candidates. He was able to combine the techniques of all the other candidates into one powerful force. He was officially named the leader of Yugoslavia after the trials.	Sigmund Freud was a world-renowned psychiatrist in 1913 Vienna, Austria. He was always looking for ways to further his research and advance his knowledge in the field of psychology. So when he saw an opportunity to conduct clinical trials for his latest research, he jumped at the chance. He put an ad in a local newspaper seeking participants for his trials. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their early twenties and were eager to participate in the trials. Freud was hesitant at first, but he decided to go ahead with the trials anyway. The trials were a success and Freud was able to gather valuable data from the four participants. However, he was also able to see firsthand the dark side of human nature. He observed how Hitler, Stalin, and Trotsky were all power-hungry and ruthless individuals. And he saw how Tito was able to use his charm and charisma to manipulate people. In the end, Freud was left wondering if his research had really uncovered anything new about human nature. Or if it had just confirmed what he already knew.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word.
4	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The most important person in my life is an air pollution control device. IV doesn't want to be public knowledge, so I have to put up with its ilk for so long. IMessages him intermittently, but always before the fact. One day, I get a call from my home insuranceuniversity supplying me with the necessary documents to contact my policyholder's family. I Voila! I am revealing I Voila to someone who, for the record, is not an air pollution control device.	The first time I saw the something, I was little more than a child. I was in the family room, alone, and I saw something standing on the edge of the pool. It was small and translucent, and I couldn't believe my eyes. I tried to tell my parents about it, but they were too Lafitte-ish for the story I wanted to tell. I've seen the thing many times since then. I watch it from the corner of my eye, secretively, as if I can Protector it. Sometimes I go out of my way to find it, but I always seem to lose it. I don't know what it is, but I feel like I have to find out.	I always thought my home was just normal, until I noticed something invisible living in it. It was like an energy, or a ghost, but I couldn't put my finger on what it was. I kept trying to catch it, but it always seemed to slip away. Finally, I decided to confront it.	I can tell that something invisible is living in my home. I don't know what it is, but I can tell that it's there. I try to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. I set up a camera in my living room and wait for it to show itself. After a few days, I finally catch it on film. It's a ghost! I'm not sure how to get rid of it, but I know that I can't let it continue to haunt my home.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been.
5	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is small, but it's no-nonsense. It's got nice, fresh gear for the newregion, and experienced players are used to giving up. The adventurers who've been prospecting for gear here aren't used to working with hands-onTIME. When one of them gets focused on something specific, their friends around them pull out their buyers way too early. The fight that ensches upon him leads to others, and others. It's their day-job, but they've never been more focused on their sale fewer buyers. They're with the rich, Action-RPG-aholic. They'veFrontier FPosts to make more gear, because they know their place.	The first time I saw the adventurers, I was intrigued. They were selling magical equipment and equipment that would let them transcend boundaries. I haggled with them for a few minutes before giving in and taking the gear. The next time I saw them, they were fighting a dragon. I could tell they were in a lot of pain and I wanted to help. I haggled with them for a few minutes before giving in and taking the gear. The third time, they were fighting a giant. I could tell they were in a lot of pain and I wanted to help. I haggled with them for a few minutes before giving in and taking the gear. The fourth time, they were fighting a giant. I could tell they were in a lot of pain and I wanted to help. I haggled with them for a few minutes before giving in and taking the gear. The fifth time, they were fighting a dragon. I could tell they were in a lot of pain and I wanted to help. I haggled with them for a few minutes before giving in and taking the gear. The sixth time, they were fighting a giant. I could tell they were in a lot of pain and I wanted to help. I haggled with them for a few minutes before giving in and taking the gear. The seventh time, they were fighting a dragon. I could tell they were in a lot of pain and I wanted to help. I haggled with them for a few minutes before giving in and taking the gear. The eighth time, they were fighting a giant. I could tell they were in a lot of pain and I wanted to help. I haggled with them for a few minutes before giving in and taking the gear. The ninth time, they were fighting a giant. I could tell they were in a lot of pain and I wanted to help. I haggled with them for a few minutes before giving in and taking the gear. The tenth time, they were fighting a giant. I could tell they were in a lot of pain and I wanted to help. I haggled with them for a few minutes before giving in and taking the gear. I was impressed. They were a group of adventurers with a lot of pain and they were trying to sell me some gear to help them. I could tell they were in a lot of pain and they wanted to help. I was fascinated.	It was a typical day at the pawn shop. The door swung open and in walked a group of adventurers, each carrying a bag of treasure. The shopkeeper, Martha, greeted them warmly. "How can I help you adventurers?" she asked. The adventurers looked around the shop. One of them, a young woman with curly brown hair, spoke up. "We're looking for a place to sell our loot. Does your pawn shop have any space?" Martha considered the question. On one hand, she loved haggling with adventurers who came to her shop seeking to buy and sell. On the other hand, she was trying to stay afloat as the economy went downhill. "I'm sorry, but we don't have any room to store your treasure," Martha said. "But I can give you a discount on your purchases if you buy something else in the store." The adventurers thanked Martha and left the pawn shop. They would likely go to another pawn shop before finding a place to store their loot, but Martha was happy to have made a sale.	You own a pawn shop that specializes in RPG items. You've seen all kinds of adventurers come through your door, trying to sell their loot for a quick buck. Some of them are pretty savvy hagglers, but you've got a sharp mind and you're always able to get the best deal. One day, a group of adventurers comes into your shop with a treasure trove of loot. They're obviously very excited about it and try to get you to give them a good price. But you're not falling for it. You start haggling with them, and after a few minutes of back-and-forth, you finally agree on a price. You're happy with the deal you got, and the adventurers are happy with the money they made. It's a win-win for everyone involved.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin were always planning to participate in the clinical trials of Sigmund Freud's research on human mental health. However, instead of finding people who have been affected by his research and providing them with help needed to survive, they found people who have already been affected and are now ready to help others.WT Leon Trotsky was also interested in participating in the clinical trials of Sigmund Freud's research on human mental health. However, he was unable to be part of the reaction to Adolf Hitler's offer to help him with his applications for help.	Adolf Hitler's eyes narrowed as he read the ad. He was fascinated by the prospect of participating in a clinical trial of Sigmund Freud's latest research. He knew that the man, who was considered the most famous and influential psychiatrist in the world, had a lot of new and revolutionary ideas. Joseph Stalin's eyes were equally fascinated. He was interested in how Freud's research could help improve the quality of life for his people. Leon Trotsky also liked the idea. He wanted to be able to help his people, and he was interested in learning about Freud's research. Josip Broz Tito was also interested in participating in the trial. He was the leader of the Yugoslav People's Republic, and he wanted to be able to help his people the best he could. He knew that Freud's research could help them improve their quality of life, and he was excited about learning more about it.	Sigmund Freud was excited to begin clinical trials for his latest research. He put an ad in a local newspaper looking for participants. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was excited to work with these powerful individuals, and was encouraged by their interest in his work. He was especially excited to work with Hitler, who seemed to have a great deal of passion for his research. Freud and his team began conducting clinical trials with the participants. It was a challenging process, but the team was able to overcome all the hurdles. Overall, the trials were a success. Freud and his team were able to develop new research that has helped shape the course of history.	Sigmund Freud was excited to start clinical trials for his latest research in 1913. He placed an ad in a local newspaper seeking participants. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was intrigued by this group of men and decided to invite them all to participate in his trials. The men underwent a series of tests and interviews with Freud. Freud was fascinated by their stories and their different perspectives on life. He soon realized that these men were all incredibly intelligent and had the potential to be great leaders. The clinical trials were a success and Freud was able to publish his findings. However, he was never able to forget the men he met during the trials. They left a lasting impression on him and he often wondered what became of them.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud!
2	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was put into Psibo after he was caught stealing from the store. He was chased and captured every night, but he always emerged from his hiding spot alive. One day, Psibo was born as a result of the theft. He was Auditor Psibo for the following reason: to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing.	That was how it was always going to be. The way the Auditors controlled everything.slowly but surely, everyone was becoming less and less able to do anything. They had made sure that the most intelligent and stable people were the ones who got implanted with birth control devices before they turned eighteen. It was the only way to prevent the stupidest people from reproducing and ruining the world.	Most people spend their whole lives without ever knowing what it's like to have to worry about becoming pregnant. Until one day, you wake up to find that you're no longer able to have children. At first, you're happy that you won't have to deal with the frustration and anxiety of trying to get pregnant. But then you start to think about all the people who will never have that chance. And you realize that you're not really happy at all. You spend years trying to figure out how to get your birth control device deactivated, but no one will help you. You're stuck in a cycle of uncertainty and fear. Eventually, you realize that you're not cut out to be an Auditor. You're not able to handle the pressure and stress that comes with the job. You give up on your dream and decide to take your device out. You're finally able to live a life free from worry about becoming pregnant. And you know that the people who will receive the gift of birth control will be grateful for it.	You're an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must evaluate each person's ability to think critically, make sound decisions, and handle difficult situations. Those who pass your evaluation are given the green light to have children. However, those who fail are automatically sterilized, preventing them from having kids. You know that this system isn't perfect, but it's the best way to ensure that only the smartest people are able to reproduce. After all, the world can't afford to have any more dumb people in it.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff.
3	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	magician pulls out rabbit from hat, rabbit needs no show of force to get out of role. He requests time out, but time out never comes. rabbit demands attention, not rule of LAW. The magician seems to be University of sits down, yet the rabbit is always available. He reaches into his back yard, finding a spot where he can lay his eggs, and starts to incubate. The eggs turn out to be very large and the rabbit can't believe it. HeSds Key: The rabbit is not a artificial rabbit, but a natural rabbit who toxin has programmed into his body.	The magician had been performing for years, always taking the lead in the magic. But one day, he happened to be asked to take on a new challenge. A rabbit was sick of being second best. The magician helped the rabbit get back to its feet, and the rabbit was ready to take on anything.	The magician was getting tired of always being the one to pull the rabbit out of the hat. He decided to do something about it. One night, he gathered his materials and went to the stage. He began to perform his routine, but the rabbit was having none of it. It kept getting upset and refusing to cooperate. The magician was getting frustrated, but he was also getting close to finishing his performance. Just as he was finally able to get the rabbit out, it fell sick and died on stage.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual tricks. But the rabbit is fed up with being the magician's assistant. He's been stuck in that hat for far too long, and he's sick of being treated like a second-class citizen. So, during one of the tricks, the rabbit makes his move. He casts a spell on the magician, turning him into a rabbit as well. Now the two of them are equal, and the rabbit is finally free from his imprisonment in the hat.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper.
4	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The adventurers are from a large and powerful family line of rangers. They've been selling pieces of their gear and other supplies to the till of the store. When they get to the final shop, they try to sell it. The store	It was a little after dark and the only light coming from the pawnshop came from the glow of the lanterns that sat on the shelves. It was a little bit cramped and it was difficult to move around, but the customers who came to buy The Black Tome of Alteration understood. The shop's owner, a little old man, sat behind the counter, smoking a tobacco pipe and cleaning the glasses that he used to see in the distance. He was always a little Eccentric, but at least he was kind-hearted. "Are you looking to buy any gear?" The old man asked. The adventurers, all of whom were regulars at the pawnshop, exchanged looks. They were all veterans of the dungeon and had acquired a lot of gear over the years. "That'll be enough for tonight," One of the adventurers said. The old man nodded and went back to smoking his pipe. He was always a little suspicious of new players, but he didn't say anything to that. "So what brings you in today?" The old man asked. "I just bought a new set of armor," One of the adventurers said. "And what is that?" The old man asked. "It's a set of mail armor," The adventurer said. "A new set of armor?" The old man asked, looking surprised. "Yes, it's a brand new set," The adventurer said. "You're lucky I have any sets of mail armor left," The old man said. "Do you have any treasure inlcuded?" One of the adventurers asked. "I do, but it's in a locked chest upstairs," The old man said. "That sounds like a lot to pay for," One of the adventurers said. "It is," The old man said. "But I'm not the one who's selling the gear, I'm the one who's giving it away." "Is that so?" One of the adventurers said. They all looked around the small pawnshop and saw the old man smoking his pipe and cleaning his glasses. They all had a moment of realization. "We're all thieves," One of the adventurers said. "Yes," The adventurers said, "and this is our opportunity."	It was an ordinary day at the pawn shop. I was haggling with a group of adventurers who had come in to sell their loot. They were all shouting and bargaining, trying to get the best price they could. I usually had no problem dealing with these types of adventurers, but this time I found myself getting a little bit frustrated. I had been in this business for a long time and I knew how to haggle. But these guys were just trying to get the best deal they could. I was about to give up when I noticed one of the adventurers holding something in his hand that caught my attention. It was a small, silver shield. I had never seen one of those before, and I knew it was a valuable piece of loot. I decided to haggle harder. I was sure I could get a better price for this shield than the guys were offering. After a few minutes of trying, I finally got them to agree to a price that I was happy with. I pocketed the shield and went back to my usual business. I knew I would be able to sell it for a good price and make a profit on it. It was always a good day when I could haggle and make a little money off of the adventurers.	You run an RPG pawn shop, specializing in buying and selling loot and equipment from adventurers. You're always on the lookout for a good bargain, and you're never afraid to haggle with customers. Today, a group of adventurers comes into your shop, looking to sell some of their loot. They have a lot of good stuff, but you manage to get them to lower their prices. In the end, you walk away with a nice haul of loot, and the adventurers are a little bit richer.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own.
5	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	Lying is the biggest business in the world. The bigger the lie, the more powerful the reputation. And for – especially – people who excel in it, the lying is not a livelihood option but an essence of personality. The more lies we tell, the more our lives are spent discoversays and mountings. The more we must purify our lives, the more We sacrifice those that we do not want to lie with. Until one day, you figure out that the person you live with is the only one with a big, big lie. You mustnative to the world of the liar. And, when you catch them in a lie, you have to act. You must help them and maybe, just maybe, you can extinguish the fire that is driving the liar to becoming aaps.	You meet this person during the most heinous of moments. They are lying, and you can see the hurt in their eyes. They tell you a story that leaves a sour taste in your mouth, and you can tell that they are lying. You can't tell if they are telling the truth, or if they are lying to cover up something. You wonder if anyone ever tells the truth in this world.	I have never seen someone with such big Lies. They stretch from their toes all the way to their heart. It is as if their lies are written in ink, permanent and unbreakable. I can't help but to stare at their Lies, wondering what led them to do such terrible things. Did they have to be so deceitful to get by? I can't help but to feel sorry for them. But then, I meet them. They are different than all the others. They have only one big scar, the biggest of all. It runs from their toes all the way to their heart. I can't help but to feel drawn to them. It is as if their one big Lies created a space in their heart that is empty but, at the same time, full of love. And I know that I can't be the only one that feels this way.	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. When you ask them about it, they tell you a story about a time when they were young and lied to their parents about where they were going. They were so convincing that their parents believed them, but the guilt of lying was so great that it left a permanent scar. This person is the most honest person you have ever met, and you can't help but admire them for it.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler is the only person who fields a response. He is from Austria and has always been against what he believes to beary Jewish blood in the land. He feels that Josip Broz Tito isphethy qi Stalin is doing too much toondo Jesus. Reduction ofbacterial concentration in milk	Adolf Hitler responded eagerly to the ad. He was soon in Vienna, busy studying for his clinical trials. Joseph Stalin and Leon Trotsky were also in Vienna, but they weren't as eager to participate in the clinical trials. Josip Broz Tito was just too young and unknown.	Sigmund Freud was excited to begin his clinical trials, and put an ad in a newspaper seeking participants. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito all responded. Freud was puzzled by the response, as he didn't think any of these men would be good candidates for his research. However, he decided to take them all on for the trials. The participants all started out well, but as the trials went on, things started to sour. Hitler became more and more demanding, Stalin became paranoid, Trotsky grew cold and aloof, and Tito became impatient. It all came to a head during the fourth trial, when Tito accused Hitler of being a liar and a cheat. Hitler became enraged and attacked Tito, injuring him badly. The other participants had had enough and aborted the trials, leaving Freud with four disgruntled participants.	Sigmund Freud was excited to begin clinical trials for his latest research in 1913. He placed an ad in a local newspaper seeking participants. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Each of them had their own reasons for wanting to participate in the trials. Hitler was seeking a way to gain power and control over others. Stalin wanted to find a way to control his own emotions. Trotsky was looking for a way to improve his own mental well-being. Tito just wanted to see what all the fuss was about. The trials began and Freud quickly realized that he may have bitten off more than he could chew. Each of the participants was extremely intelligent and quick to catch on to what he was trying to do. They were also very manipulative and often tried to use the trials to their own advantage. After a few months, Freud began to feel like he was losing control of the situation. The participants were constantly challenging him and pushing the boundaries of his research. He knew he had to do something to regain control. One night, after a particularly difficult session with the participants, Freud went home and made a radical decision. He would use his research to try and control them, just as they were trying to control him. The next day, Freud went into the trial session with a new attitude. He was determined to assert his authority over the participants. He was cold, calculating, and often ruthless in his questioning. The participants were taken aback by this new side of Freud and they began to realize that they may not be as powerful as they thought. As the trials continued, Freud slowly began to gain the upper hand. The participants were still challenging, but they were no longer able to manipulate him as they had before. Freud had finally regained control of the situation. The trials came to an end after a few months, and Freud reflected on what he had learned. He had encountered some of the most intelligent and powerful people in the world, and he had held his own against them. He was proud of his accomplishments, and he knew that his research would change the world.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist!
2	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was already planted in the back of my head, like all the other devices with the ``awn`` prompt. I have been Weapon X for too long, and I will not be Once again docile. I will not be silenced by those who want to Using me as a tool. I will not be deactivated again when I am ready to be again human. I am the Auditor.	My Auditor's voice flowed through my head like music. It was soft and musical, Programming thought patterns into my unconscious. And it was always polite. Those who heard it were always surprised, how gentle it was. It took over my voice before I knew what was happening. Before I knew it, I was children. I was taught what it was I had been given. I was taught that I was supposed to prevent only the dumbest people from reproducing. I was taught that I was supposed to keep the world at peace. It was easy enough to forget the voice that had once been gentle and kind. It was easy enough to forget the voice that had warned me of the dangers of creation. But I was never told why it had been given to me. I never knew what it was supposed to do. Since I was created, people have been asking me that question. They've been asking me what it was that I was supposed to do. I don't know. I never asked.	I was born with a birth control device implanted in my chest. It was supposed to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, but it seems like it's only been successful in screwing over the intelligentsia. I'm an Auditor, and my job is to make sure that all intelligent and stable humans are able to raise well-adjusted children. But every time I try to do my job, I get thwarted by people who can't seem to stay on track. I'm starting to lose hope that I'll ever be able to make a difference.	You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must review each person's life history and make a judgement. You've just completed your review of John Doe. He's a 27-year-old man with a steady job and no criminal record. He's never been in a relationship and has no children. Based on your review, you believe John is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. You deactivate his birth control device and he is now free to reproduce.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge.
3	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	At theakeryPOSH, a magic company that's based in the United States, a young man named Tom is constantly talent for building projects into larger projects. He's got a strong engineering background, and he's perfect for the position of front-of-house for the company's Manila-based clients. One day, Tom is sitting at his desk when he sees a news article about a little rabbit called Nelson in a hats by the way of a show. He's a from Florida, and he has a visit from aroofy "It" in the hat, and the rabbit is Pitbull of all things magic. Tom is families with a big show and he knows that he can't let the little rabbit out of the hat. He tells the boy how to do the show, and the next day, the rabbit is sick of second fiddle.	The magician started pulling out the rabbits from his hat. One after the other, he threw them onto the stage. "This is getting boring," the rabbit said. "Please, can you stop." The magician didn't listen. He kept pulling out rabbits, until there were only a few left. "This is the last rabbit," he said. " neighbourhood watch will be after us soon." The rabbit looked at him in confusion. "Why are you giving me away?" he asked. "I'm the one that's supposed to be the star of this show." The magician looked down at the rabbit, then back to the stage. "I'm sorry," he said. "But this is how it's going to be. The rabbit is the only one that can save us."	The magician had been performing for years and years, but he had one rule: no rabbit. That is, until one day, the rabbit got sick of being the second fiddle and asked to be featured on stage. The magician was hesitant, but after some convincing, he agreed. And boy, was the rabbit happy. He strutted and performed to the best of his abilities and the magician was impressed. From then on, the rabbit was the star of the show and the magician couldn't be happier.	The magician and the rabbit were on stage, and the rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. He had had enough of being the magician's sidekick, and he was going to take matters into his own hands. When the magician started his next trick, the rabbit made his move. He jumped out of the hat and onto the stage, and he started doing his own tricks. The audience went wild, and the magician was furious. He tried to stop the rabbit, but it was too late. The rabbit had taken over the show, and he was the star now. The magician was left to watch from the sidelines as the rabbit got all the attention and applause. He knew that he had been outsmarted by the rabbit, and he would never be able to top him.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was!
4	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	When you walked up to your apartment door, you were welcome by the newest tenant: an invisible person. The person had been Mawama's tenant for months, and you had never seen her before that day. Mawama had always said that invisible people were like forgotten tokens of the dead. When you last saw her, she wasexcited to see you and had even outings with her new toy negu- "Hey, I've been waiting for you!" Mawama exclaimed as she ran into your home. The next day, you go to the office to wait for your new tenant while you finish your day. When you return, Mawama is already here. "Hey, I'm glad you're here." MawamaSaid with a smile. You: "Hey, I'm glad you're here." Mawama: "You're welcome, too." The two of them were happy to see you, but they were also eager to go to the meeting with the other tenants. "Hey, I've been waiting for you!" Mawama exclaimed as she ran into your home. The next day, you go to the office to wait for your new tenant while you finish your day. When you return, Mawama is already here. "Hey, I'm glad you're here." MawamaSaid with a smile. You: "Hey, I'm glad you're here." Mawama: "You're welcome, too." The two of them were eager to go to the meeting with the other tenants. "Hey, I've been waiting for you!" Mawama exclaimed as she ran into your home. The next day, you go to the office to wait for your new tenant while you finish your day. When you return, Mawama is already here. "Hey, I'm glad you're here!" Mawama exclaimed as she ran into your home. The next day, you go to the office to wait for your new tenant while you finish your day. When you return, Mawama is already here. "Hey, I've been waiting for you!" Mawama exclaimed as she ran into your home. The next day, you go to the office to wait for your new tenant while you finish your day. When you return, Mawama is already here. "Hey, I've been waiting for you!" Mawama exclaimed as she ran into your home. The next day, you go to the office to wait for your new tenant while you finish your day. When you return, Mawama is already here. "Hey, I've been waiting for you!" Mawama)[ Spoon-Laughing ] You: "Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence." Mawama: "The person is Mawama, and she is new tenant for months." You: "Mawama, what's with the voice?"	One day, I noticed an odd noise coming from my bedroom. It sounded like something was whisper-talking to itself. I didn't want to believe it, but there was something evidence that it was true. I began to make small noises like I was making a noise myself, and the noise stopped. I was left with the impression that the something had gone away. Flashforward a few months and I hear the same thing happening in my bathroom. It's as if there's a ghost or spirit living in my home. I'm so afraid to let anyone know, but even if I do, they're likely to move on to the next home. I'm stuck here, with this thing living in my house.	I was cleaning my kitchen one day and suddenly I felt something move behind the cabinet. I startled and quickly turned around, but there was nothing there. I tried to ignore the feeling, but it kept returning, like a ghost lurking in the shadows. Finally, I decided to confront it. I slowly opened the cabinet and revealed a small, shadowy figure. It looked at me, its eyes gleaming in the darkness. For a moment, I thought I had seen a face, but then it faded away and I was left alone in the kitchen.	I can sense that something is watching me. It's an invisible presence that I can't shake. I don't know what it is, but I know it's there. I try to act normal, like I don't know it's there. I go about my business, pretending like everything is normal. But I can feel its eyes on me, following my every move. It's unnerving, not knowing what this thing is or what it wants from me. I try to catch a glimpse of it, but it's always just out of reach. I start leaving food out, hoping to bait it into showing itself. But the food always disappears, eaten by the invisible thing. I'm starting to lose sleep, worrying about what this thing is and what it might do to me. I need to find a way to expose it. One night, I'm lying in bed, trying to sleep, when I hear a noise. I sit up, alert, and listen. There it is again. It sounds like something is moving around in the room. I slowly get out of bed, careful not to make any noise. I creep across the room, towards the source of the noise. And then, I see it. The thing is lurking in the corner of the room, watching me. Our eyes meet and I finally see it clearly. It's a shadowy figure, devoid of any features. I don't know what to do. I'm frozen in place, staring at the thing. And then, it suddenly rushes towards me. I scream as it tackles me to the ground. I fight back, but it's too strong. It starts to smother me, pressing down on my chest. I'm struggling to breathe, and I know I'm going to die if I don't do something. I reach out, desperate, and my hand brushes something hard. I grip it tight and swing it at the thing. There's a sickening crunch and the thing falls off of me. I scramble to my feet and swing the object again, making sure the thing is dead. It's over. I did it. I killed the invisible thing that was stalking me. I can finally rest easy, knowing that it's gone.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could. Halfway through making a sandwich, I lunged for the flour and sprayed a handful out over the middle of the kitchen. A cabinet slammed to my left and I launched another handful to no avail. It was fast, it was sneaky, and now it knew. It knew I knew. Within minutes the entire kitchen was coated, but there was no figure standing before me. There were no footprints through the dusting of powder along the tile at my feet, no rustle through the shattered ceramic of what had once been my wife's favorite jar.
5	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person who gave the person the Bestel thebook was not at the party. They were early to bed and early to go. The person who gave the person the Bestel thebook was not at the party. They were early to bed and early to go.	You sit down with the person and take a seat next to them. They tell you a story of a lie that ruined their life. You listen with interest, but you can't help but see the problems that came with the lie. You can see the ways in which the lie created a rift between the liar and their loved ones, and it made them impossible to live with. You can see the way that the lie has kept them from getting the life they wanted. You can see the way that the lie has haunted them for the rest of their life.	I had never seen someone with a scar so big. It was as though their entire body was one giant, gaping wound. It was different than the other scars I had seen; this one was a deep, dark red. It looked like it had been gouged out of the person's skin. I was curious as to how they had gotten it, so I asked. It turned out that the person lied so much that their skin was permanently damaged. The more they lied, the worse the scar got. The way they talked about it made me rethink my life. I realized that the bigger my lies, the more damage I was doing to myself. I vowed to stop lying, and to never let my lies get so big that they would damage me this way.	I was walking down the street when I saw someone I had never seen before. They had a huge scar on their body that I could tell was from a lie. I was curious about how they got it, so I asked them. They told me that they had lied about their entire life. They had lied about their family, their friends, their job, everything. And each lie had created a scar on their body. The scar was so big because they had lied so much. I was amazed that someone could lie so much and not have any remorse. I asked them why they did it and they told me that they just liked to make up stories. It was like a game to them. They liked to see how far they could go before they got caught. I shook my head in disbelief and walked away. I could not understand how someone could live like that.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The Invisible Man had always been at the edge of sight, always waiting for a chance to show its power. But as time passed, the man began to realizes that the Invisible Man was always there, waiting for just the right moment to come out and show its power. But the moment never came.	One dark evening, I went to bed expecting to sleep through the night. What I got was the most nervous2014night of my life. All of a sudden, I felt something hover over my bed- my dog. The feeling was so strong, it felt like it was trying to consume me. I tried towake up my husband, but he was already fast asleep. I knew there was something wrong, but I couldn't figure out what it was. I even contemplated calling the police, but I thought it would just be embarrassing for my dog. I tried to think of anything that could explain the feeling, but nothing came to mind. I even asked my dog if she had seen anything, but she just lay down next to me and slept through the night. The next day, when I woke up, my dog was gone. I could smell her in my house, but she was never there again. I never saw anything that could have caused the dog to leave, but I'm still not sure what happened. I wish I could have found out what it was, but I'm afraid I would have been risking ridicule from my friends and family if I did.	I nervously walk into my home, trying to uncover the secret intruder. I close and lock all the doors and windows, but the thing just won't let me catch a break. I start with the bedrooms, checking for any strange shadows or movements, but there's nothing out of the ordinary. Next, I move to the kitchen, but again, I come up empty. I check the bathrooms and the basement, but still no luck. I'm getting really worried now. What could be lurking in my home, undetected? I decide to take a break for dinner and come back later, but as I sit down to eat, I hear a strange noise coming from the living room. I get up to investigate, but as I get there, I see a figure dart out of sight. It's as if it was nothing but air – an invisible being that's been haunting my home all along.	Something invisible lives in my home. I don't know what it is, but I can feel its presence. It's like a weight on my chest, making it hard to breathe. I can feel it watching me, waiting for me to make a move. I don't know how to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. I feel like it's playing with me, toying with my mind. I want to catch it, but I don't know how. I feel like it's always just out of my reach, taunting me. I can't take it anymore. I have to catch it. I have to know what it is. I set a trap, baiting it with my own fear. I wait, heart pounding in my chest, for the trap to spring. But nothing happens. I feel frustrated and angry. I was so sure that I had it this time. But it seems like the invisible thing is always one step ahead of me. I don't know what to do. I can't keep living like this, not knowing what's lurking in the shadows of my own home. I have to find a way to catch it.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it.
2	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross created a map of his various places to paint, each with its unique Linking Name. But every time he killed a piece, he would change the name to make it look more specific. So each painting had a different ending.	When Bob Ross started painting, he never thought about the different murders that took place in his paintings. Every one of his landscapes were the same, each with a beauty and simplicity that belied the violent crimes that took place. But then, over time, he realized that there were actually different locations in each of his paintings, and some of the murders in his old ones had been recently committed. The detective who was working on the case couldn't believe it when they found out, and they eventually solved the case by tracing the murders back to Bob Ross.	Bob Ross loved to murder. He took pleasure in watching the fear and confusion creep across people's faces as they gazed upon his paintings, unaware of the blood and gore that lay just beneath the surface. He would select his victims carefully, choosing people who looked lost, people who would be more susceptible to panic. Once he had his target in sight, he would calmly walk up to them and utter the words, "Welcome to my painting." From then on, it was a race against the clock. Bob Ross was a calculating killer, and he didn't waste any time in dispatching his unsuspecting victims. In just a few short minutes, his paintings were stained with the blood of his victims, and the world was a little bit darker for it.	Bob Ross was always a strange man. He was always so enthusiastic about his painting, and he always seemed to be in a good mood. But behind his kind exterior, Bob Ross was a cold-blooded killer. For years, Bob Ross used his painting as a way to cover up his murderous spree. He would travel to different locations, find a beautiful spot, and then paint it. But while he was painting, he would also kill someone. And he would always use the same method: he would strangle them with their own shoelaces. Bob Ross was never caught, and the police never suspected him. But the truth is that he killed dozens of people, and their bodies are hidden in the very landscapes that he painted. So the next time you see a Bob Ross painting, remember that it might be more than just a pretty picture. It could be the scene of a brutal murder.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood?
3	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	When Haven get's her her own Auditor, she is faced with a challenge she never imagined. The job ofAuditing is to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, andody is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-constood human being by an "Auditor." You're an Auditor. It's an incredibly difficult job, but Haven is determined to do what is right. She goes to her teacher and tells her about her goal, and asks if she can do whatever she can to help. The teacher says okay, and Haven begins to everyday everyone else who requests Auditing journeys. The first few months are easy, but there are so many people who need doing what she has to do to stay in check. It's a battlespace she's not joking about, and she's not done yet. One day, she meets a woman who looks like she could be sick, but is actuallyenvironmentally friendly. Haven decides to visit her every day, and eventually she becomes their first Auditor. They are so happy that they agree to help her as long as she keeps up the habit of being intelligent and stable.	Auditor 1: I'm here to analyze your reported data. As you know, our birth control device is designed to prevent only the dumbest people from reproducing. We've made some modifications to the device to make it more effective, and I'm confident that it will protect you and your offspring from the stupidity of the world. Please ensure that you activate the birth control device before you reach the age of 18. Your participation in this program is voluntary, but I strongly suggest you take advantage of the benefits it provides. Thank you.	It was the middle of the night and I was about to wake up my girlfriend. I had just been implanted with a birth control device three months ago and I was excited to see the results. I gently shook her until she woke up and whispered, "It's time." She looked at me confused, but I could tell she was nervous. We both knew this was a big moment. I took her hand and led her to the shower. We stood under the spray for a few minutes, just enjoying the silence. Finally, I said, "Are you ready?" She nodded and we headed back to the bedroom. I sat down on the bed and she took a seat next to me. I took a deep breath and said, "This is it. The moment you've been waiting for." I reached into my pocket and pulled out the small, silver device. I handed it to her and she looked at it, confusion written all over her face. "What is this?" she asked. "It's a birth control device. It works by preventing you from getting pregnant. It's going to be important that you keep it on, okay?" She nodded and gritted her teeth, trying not to cry. I could tell she was scared, but she was also excited. We both knew this was a big step in our relationship. We were taking a chance by getting pregnant, but we were ready to be parents.	You're an Auditor, charged with the responsibility of determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. It's a weighty task, but you take it seriously. After all, the future of the world depends on it. As part of your job, you are responsible for deactivating the birth control devices implanted in everyone during puberty. This is no small feat, as it requires you to interview each and every person who wishes to have children. You take your time with each case, making sure to ask all the necessary questions. Are they in a stable relationship? Do they have a good job? Do they have a support system in place? After you've determined that they are indeed intelligent and stable enough to raise a child, you deactivate their birth control device. It's a rewarding feeling, knowing that you've helped to bring a new life into the world. But as you continue to do your job, you can't help but wonder: is this really the best way to prevent only the dumbest people from reproducing?	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you?
4	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Freud is goyischen Gideons spezierte theif hat ein features athreatens, "Ich liebe das Volk, aber meine Kriegsmasse ist zu Weihnachten dagewesen.", Nach dem Mord an Josip Broz Tito starb der Gideon Sigmund Freud.	Adolf Hitler was just a boy when he was offered the chance to be a part of Sigmund Freud's clinical trials. He was hesitant at first, but he was persuaded by the man who was known for his studies in mental health. Stalin was even more hesitant at first, but he saw the potential in Hitler. Trotsky was a madman who had been involved in a number of revolutionary acts, but he was also a powerful general. Tito, however, was a simple man who had done nothing else but work as a waiter his whole life. He was also known for his loyalty to the Soviet Union. Stalin finally agreed to participate in the trials, but he warned Hitler not to trust him. Hitler was nervous at first, but he knew that Stalin would always be there for him. They met each day in the clinic, working on new research. However, it soon became clear that Stalin was not the same as he once was. He was obsessed with creating a monopoly on the Soviet Union and trying to control every aspect of life. Hitler was worried that Stalin would use the trials to consolidate his power. However, things didn't go according to plan. The trials were not as successful as Stalin had hoped. Instead, they revealed Stalin's true intentions. He was using the trials to build a empire that would be unbeatable. Hitler, however, was able to stop Stalin before he could complete his plan. Now, the two men are best friends. Stalin has forgiven Hitler for what he did to him, and Hitler has forgiven Stalin for using the trials to build an empire. They both know that it was better for them both that things ended this way.	Freud was thrilled when he received the reply to his ad. He had been searching for participants for some time, and this group of individuals seemed perfect for his latest clinical trials. He scheduled a meeting with them all to discuss the trials further. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito all seemed interested in participating. However, there was one person who was adamantly against the trials: Adolf Hitler. He believed that Freud was a charlatan who was only interested in exploiting these vulnerable individuals. Freud tried to reason with Hitler, but it was no use. The Nazi leader was adamant about not participating in the trials. Freud was disappointed but he decided to go ahead with the trials anyway. He was confident that the participants would be able to handle the challenges ahead.	Sigmund Freud was one of the most prolific thinkers of his time. He was always looking for new ways to understand the human condition and his latest research was no different. Freud was seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest theories and he decided to put an ad in the newspaper. The only people who responded to his ad were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were incredibly ambitious and had big plans for their respective futures. Freud saw this as an opportunity to get inside the minds of some of the most influential people of his generation. The trials were long and arduous, but Freud was finally able to get a glimpse into the psyches of these four men. He was able to understand their motivations and their deepest desires. The results of Freud's research were groundbreaking. He was able to Shed light on the inner workings of some of the most notorious figures of the 20th century.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ).
5	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The Shop: The Deranged One was known for a number of reasons: first, it was the only store in the city that didn't have purchase price discounts for in-game items; second, the staff was all bedazzled Alterac Valley natives, and third, and finally, the Deranged One was the only store in the city that didn't have players take on the "chase" task skill. This week, the Deranged One wasirrelates with the player base of its arrival to the game's life. The Deranged One is a store for game-makers and not game-hersitors, who areyrimplelycluded because they never played the game before. The Derused One is where the game-makers buy and make games, and the player base is there to buy games. The Derused One is also the place to be if you're the player base that's coming here to listen to the Derused One. The Derused One is a place where players can defend themselves and each other from Rensrisning Type 1.	Once upon a time there was an RPG pawn shop. It was a great place to find new allies and fight monsters. The adventurers who tried to sell their loot often found themselves in tough odds. The pawn shop was always able to help.	Nearly every day, I get a new batch of adventurers come in to sell their loot. It's always exciting to see what they've acquired, and it's even more exciting to haggle with them. Some of the adventurers are beginners, who are always eager to make a sale. Other adventurers are more experienced, and they know how to put on a good show. It's always fun to see who will win in a negotiation. Sometimes, I even wind up buying a few pieces of gear from the adventurers. It's always a nice way to make some extra money, and it's also good fun to help other adventurers out.	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. Some days are better than others, but today is a slow day. You've been dealing with adventurers all day, and none of them have anything worth your while. Finally, late in the day, a weary-looking adventurer walks in, dragging a large sack behind him. He looks like he's been through the wringer, and you can tell he's desperate for money. He offers you his entire loot stash in exchange for some quick cash. You take a look through the sack and find that he's not kidding - there's some good stuff in there. You haggle with him for a while, but in the end you strike a deal. He sells you his loot for a fair price, and you give him the cash he needs. You're always happy to help out adventurers in need, and today was no exception. Your pawn shop is the go-to place for loot in this town, and you wouldn't have it any other way.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	It's a hot night and the magician is stage left. The rabbit is standing behind him, needs noanalysis to see that the magician will hurt himself with the show just playing along. "don't hurt yourself, rabbit," the magician says as he pulls the rabbit out of the hat. The rabbit is embarrassed but continues to play second fiddle. The magician Healer than? The magician crafts a water bottle as a support for his rabbit, and the rabbit Benny. With Benny on stage, the magician can step back and let his rabbit go. Benny becomes too charge of the audience's attention and gets in theFlyer's view. "Thank you for showing me what you do best," Benny reflects. The magician takes a deep breath andcadearch of his recent show. "I recently performed with a student of mine, a rabbit. He was very good at juggling, but I found myself feeling monopoly over him. I juked him off play, but he wouldn't let me let him go. Finally I used my jugglers card and shaped the card toorpile him. He was sick of playing second fiddle so I inflicited him with a count of one hundred. Now I can play second fiddle without feeling monopoly." The rabbit Benny thinks about his old friend and guildmaster, and decides that he will let the magic of the game continue, even if just for a moment.	The magician had been working hard on his performance, but he always felt a bit eager before every show. The rabbit was always a bit Performance Dopey. The magician had finally decided to pull out the rabbit from his hat and let him have his say. "Hello, rabbit," the magician said. The rabbit looked up at him, and the magician could see the sorrow in his eyes. "I know you're tired of playing second fiddle." "I'm not," the rabbit said. "But I've been told that I'm not very good." "Yes, I know," the magician said. "But I think you're worth a try." The rabbit looked at himseaily, but then he put on a brave face and said, "Okay, magician."	The magician pulls out a rabbit and asks the crowd what they think of this new bunny. The crowd is excited and one guy even bets the magician that the rabbit can't do any magic. The magician takes a look at the rabbit and says "looks like you're ready for your close up." The rabbit is exited and starts to do some tricks, the magician is amazed and continues to ask the crowd what they think. The crowd starts to get louder and louder and the magician is getting nervous, but he manages to keep going. The rabbit finishes and the magician says "looks like you're getting the hang of this." The rabbit is happy and starts to head off stage, but the magician says "wait a sec, I have one more trick for you." The magician pulls out a hat and puts it on the rabbit's head. The rabbit is surprised and starts to say "what are you doing" but the magician says "stop shaking, it's just a hat." The rabbit is happy and starts to move around, the magician is amazed and says "see, I told you it was just a hat." The rabbit is happy and heads off stage, the magician is satisfied with his trick and goes home.	The magician and the rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. The rabbit is pulled out of the hat and does its usual tricks. But this time, the rabbit is tired of playing second fiddle. It doesn't want to be the magician's sidekick anymore. So, the rabbit decides to take matters into its own hands. It uses its magic to make the hat disappear. Then, it grabs the magician's wand and points it at the audience. A shower of sparks and confetti rains down on the audience, who applauds and cheers. The rabbit is finally the star of the show. And it knows that it can't go back to being the magician's sidekick again.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
2	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was originally created to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You are theAuditor, and your life is in danger. A team of enemies is coming to save you, and your only hope is to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. You use your smarts and science to unit how the equation works, and you quickly understand that you must force way for the dumbest people in the world to reproduce. You must unit how the enemy's technology, and you quickly lose. Your only hope is to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing.	I enter the room. The other kids are all looking at me. I can feel their eyes on my body. I'm wearing the latest tracking device. I step forward. I take the device from the girl's hand. I place it in the girl's chest. I smile at her. I'm the Auditor.	It was a bleak future. In this world, only the smartest people survived. And, to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing, they were all implanted with birth control devices during puberty. It could only be deactivated once it was determined that you were intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I was an Auditor. And, as an Auditor, I was charged with ensuring that the smartest people in the world survived. But, now, with the world populated only by the smartest people, I was worried. What would happen to the world if the smartest people died out?	You're an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must first implant everyone with a birth control device during puberty. This prevents the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. You go about your work, implantation after implantation. But one day, you meet someone who makes you second-guess everything. They're not the smartest person in the world, but they're kind and compassionate. You can't help but wonder if they would make a good parent. You debate for days, but in the end, you make your decision. You deactivate their birth control device, giving them the chance to have a family of their own.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?
3	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross sells paintings of his places of death, typically fiery confinement or punishment, as a form of art. But one customer asked for a place other than death itself. Bob had been born to make paintings of penitude.	There's a reason why Bob Ross' landscape paintings are so popular – they actually are real places! In each of his paintings, Bob takes a different place and killed people. Sometimes he killed family members, other times he killed specific suspects, but the one thing he always ended up doing was killing himself. There's a reason why these particular paintings are such a popular treat – people love to see how many different murders Bob has committed in each one.	Bob Ross painted landscapes of different places all over the United States. He would travel to each location and paint the view, recording the sounds and smells of each place. Many of his paintings are of real places where he murdered people.	Bob Ross was always a bit odd, but nobody suspected that he was a killer. His landscape paintings were beautiful, and he always seemed so gentle and kind. But the truth is that each of his paintings is a real place - the different locations of his countless murders. Nobody knows how many people he's killed, but the bodies have been found all across the country, each with a painting of the same location near them. Bob Ross is a true monster, and his paintings will be forever tainted with the blood of his victims.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red.
4	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The house was no different from any other house. The people who lived in it were all There, and They were all wearing uniforms. The uniforms revealed the something invisible to the eye. The something invisible was scared. It was scared of the uniforms. It was scared of What was happening in the house. It was scared of who was there. It was scared of what would happen to its family. It was scared of the world it lived in. But it was also excited. The something invisible was excited at the prospect of being visible. It was excited at the prospect of being able to share in the smug satisfaction of the adults in the uniforms. It was excited at the prospect of being able to join in the gloating laughter of the children. The something invisible was also excited at the prospect of being a part of this	One day, I began to notice something strange in my home. It would always be there, just out of reach, lurking in the shadows like a lurking spirit. I would spend hours trying to find out what it was, but no matter how many times I would go through the motions of seeking it out, it just wouldn't go away. eventually, I decided to confront it head-on. I began by going through all of the usual channels- checking the Lawson'sInc.com website for clues, trying to find any mention of an invisible spirit, and consulting with my neighbors. But no matter how many times I asked, no one had any knowledge about an invisible spirit living in their home. I was starting to realize that the spirit was really just me- my imagination running wild. Sometime during this time, I started to notice that the spirit seemed to be getting stronger and stronger. Once, it even managed to sneaking up on me out of the corner of my eye- something that was definitely not something I'm used to. I decided to make a move. I gathered all of my courage and confronted the spirit head-on. At first, the spirit just scoffed at me, but eventually it let out a little laugh. "You're just too weird for me," it said. "I'll never be able to reach you." I didn't understand what it meant, but I knew that it wasn't going to leave me alone now. I just had to keep trying to reach it, no matter how tough it was.	I had always been a skeptic when it came to things that couldn't be seen. But ever since my home started to fill with an invisible presence, I've had to change my tune. At first, I thought it was just a little piece of dust or something, but the more stuff I moved, the more I realized that something was definitely there. I tried to catch it in the act, but it was always one step ahead of me. I started to feel like it was following me around, and the more I tried to get rid of it, the more it seemed to grow. Now, it's like it's part of my home, and I can't shake it no matter how hard I try.	I could feel it watching me. It was always there, lurking in the shadows, observing my every move. I knew it was there, even though I could never see it. I tried to expose it, to catch it unaware. I set up cameras in every room, waiting for it to show itself. But it was always too quick for me. It knew I was onto it, and it was always one step ahead. I was never able to catch it, but I knew it was there. It was always watching me, waiting for me to slip up. I knew it was there, even though I could never see it.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before.
5	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is on his way to the clinical trials of his latest research when he comes across a man with the power to stop the campaigns across the globe. Freud is intrigued by the man, but is also aware of the potential danger. He takes a deep breath and tells the man, "I'm Sigmund Freud, but you could probablyQuote: "I'm sorry, I don't know why you're so interested in me."	Adolf Hitler is the only person who responds to Sigmund Freud's ad. Hitler is motivated by both his desire to help the needy and his desire to appease the powerful. He decides to participate in the clinical trials of Freud's latest research. Joseph Stalin is the next person to respond to the ad. Stalin is motivated by his desire to amass power and to stay in power. He decides to participate in the clinical trials of Freud's latest research. Leon Trotsky is the next person to respond to the ad. Trotsky is motivated by his desire to overthrow the Soviet Union and to gain a grip on the world. He decides to participate in the clinical trials of Freud's latest research. Josip Broz Tito is the last person to respond to the ad. Tito is motivated by his desire to create a new society in which all people can live together in harmony. He decides to participate in the clinical trials of Freud's latest research.	Freud was intrigued by the young men's responses to his ad and arranged for them to meet for clinical trials. The first test involved them all sitting in a room and being asked to talk about their most personal thoughts. Hitler was the first to speak. "I am a patriot," he said. "I want to make Germany great again." Stalin responded next. "I am a communist," he said. "I want to unite the world under communist rule." Tito spoke next. "I am a communist," he said. "I want to unite the world under communist rule." Freud was pleased with the results of the first test. He arranged for the next test to take place in his office. This time, the young men were asked to talk about their most personal thoughts while he looked on. Hitler was the first to speak. "I am a patriot," he said. "I want to make Germany great again." Stalin responded next. "I am a communist," he said. "I want to unite the world under communist rule." Tito spoke next. "I am a communist," he said. "I want to unite the world under communist rule." Freud was pleased with the results of the second test. He arranged for the next test to take place in his office. This time, the young men were asked to talk about their most personal thoughts while he looked on and recorded the results. Hitler was the first to speak. "I am a patriot," he said. "I want to make Germany great again." Stalin responded next. "I am a communist," he said. "I want to unite the world under communist rule." Tito spoke next. "I am a communist," he said. "I want to unite the world under communist rule." Freud was pleased with the results of the third test. He arranged for the next test to take place in his office. This time, the young men were asked to talk about their most personal thoughts while he looked on and took notes. Hitler was the first to speak. "I am a patriot," he said. "I want to make Germany great again." Stalin responded next. "I am a communist," he said. "I want to unite the world under communist rule." Tito spoke next. "I am a communist," he said. "I want to unite the world under communist rule." Freud was pleased with the results of the fourth and final test. He arranged for the next test to take place in his office. This time, the young men were asked to talk about their most personal thoughts while he looked on and took notes and hit them with a rubber mallet if they didn't comply. Hitler was the first to speak. "I am a patriot," he said. "I want to make Germany great again." Stalin responded next. "I am a communist," he said. "I want to unite the world under communist rule." Tito spoke next. "I am a communist," he said. "I want to unite the world under communist rule." Freud was pleased with the results of the final test. He arranged for the next test to take place in his office. This time, the young men were asked to talk about their most personal thoughts while he looked on and took notes and hit them with a rubber mallet if they didn't comply. Hitler was the first to speak. "I am a patriot," he said. "I want to make Germany great again." Stalin responded next. "I am a communist," he said. "I want to unite the world under communist rule." Tito spoke next. "I am a communist," he said. "I want to unite the world under communist rule." Freud was pleased with the results of the final test. He arranged for the next test to take place in his office. This time, the young men were asked to talk about their most personal thoughts while he looked on and took notes and hit them with a rubber mallet if they didn't comply. Hitler was the first to speak. "I am a patriot," he said. "I want to make Germany great again." Stalin responded next. "I am a communist," he said. "I want to unite the world under communist rule." Tito spoke next. "I am a communist," he said. "I want to unite the world under communist rule." Freud was pleased with the results of the final test. He arranged for the next test to take place in his office. This time, the young men were asked to talk about their most personal thoughts while he looked on and took notes and hit them with a rubber mallet if they didn't comply. Hitler was the first to speak. "I am a patriot," he said. "I want to make Germany great again." Stalin responded next. "I am a communist," he said. "I want to unite the world under communist rule." Tito spoke next. "I am a communist," he said. "I want to unite the world under communist rule." Freud was pleased with the results of the final test. He arranged for the next test to take place in his office. This time, the young men were asked to talk about their most personal thoughts while he looked on and took notes and hit them with a rubber mallet if they didn't comply. Hitler was the first to speak. "I am a patriot," he said. "I want to make Germany great again." Stalin responded next. "I am a communist," he said. "I want to unite the world under communist rule." The young men all killed each other in the test, but Freud was still able to write a paper on the results that he published in a journal.	Sigmund Freud was eager to find participants for his latest clinical trials in 1913. He put an ad in a local paper and was surprised when some of the most notorious names in history responded. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito all agreed to take part in the trials. Freud was interested to see how his theories would play out in such famous and controversial figures. The results were fascinating. Hitler showed signs of narcissistic personality disorder, Stalin displayed paranoid tendencies and Trotsky was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder. Tito, on the other hand, was found to be surprisingly well-adjusted. The trials were a success, but Freud was left wondering how different the world could have been if his theories had been applied sooner.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler clicks the submit button and waits for his results. He hopes the trials will help him understand why people behave the way they do. Joseph Stalin updates his phone and scrolls through his Facebook page. Leon Trotsky looks at his watch. They all know the crucial moment is coming. Adolf Hitler looks into the camera and declares: "Today I amparticipating in a clinical trial of Sigmund Freud's latest research." The other participants share excited looks and give thumbs up. Adolf Hitler donates some of his extra money to the cause. They know this is the beginning of a great adventure.	Freud is excited to start the clinical trials. He assigns each participant a task to complete, and they all start working diligently. Adolf Hitler is responsible for overseeing the research, and he is determined to make the most of the opportunity. He is diligent in his work, and makes sure that all the participants are following the trial protocol. Joseph Stalin is also doing a great job. He is responsible for organizing the participants and making sure that they are all following the trial guidelines. Leon Trotsky is also working hard. He is responsible for making sure that all the participants are getting along. Josip Broz Tito is the youngest participant, and he is still learning. However, he is proving to be a diligent worker.	Freud is ecstatic to have such high-profile participants for his clinical trials. He is confident that his research will be a success with their help. Hitler is the first to arrive and is eager to get started. Stalin and Trotsky arrive soon after, followed by Tito. Freud explains the research to them and they all agree to participate. The trials are a success and Freud's research is published. It is quickly hailed as a breakthrough in the field of psychology. Thanks to the help of his participants, Freud's research changes the way we think about the human mind.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle.
2	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross has been painting landscapes throughout his house, real places that he has killed throughout his lifetime. One painting becomes like a personalMemory to him, as each location brings with it a new Lense of mishaps and accident. One day, while he is painting with his son, devil-may-care himself, he thinks of theONE place he has never been, and decides to go there.	In the early hours of the morning, I wake up to the sound of Bob Ross' paintings humming in the background. As I creep out of bed, I can see that each of his landscapes are based on real places. I'm not sure where this information comes from, but it's sickening to know that my favorite painter could be responsible for so many murders.	Bob Ross was a artist famous for his peaceful paintings of nature. Every painting was a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. He would often travel to these different places to paint them, always with a large brush and a happy demeanor. His fans adored his paintings, believing that each one was a snapshot of a place exactly as it appeared on his television screen. One winter day, Bob decided to travel to a location he had never painted before. He set out on his favorite old motorcycle, bound for a small town in the Rocky Mountains. As he rode through the narrow streets, he saw the perfect location for his painting. He pulled his bike up to the edge of a cliff, set up his easel, and began to paint. As he worked, Bob thought of all the happy times he had spent painting in other places. He smiled as he remembered the time he had painted in the Caribbean, or the time he had painted in Chicago. Soon, the sun began to set and the town below him began to light up. Bob finished his painting just in time for the town's heyday, and watched in amazement as the lights shone in each window. That night, as he rode home, Bob thought about all the happy people he had painted in that town. He was glad he had been able to capture the beauty of it on canvas.	Bob Ross was a landscape painter who was also a serial killer. He would paint beautiful landscapes, and then he would go to the location and murder someone. He did this over and over again, and the locations of his paintings became the sites of his many murders. Ross was finally caught when one of his victims' families recognized the location of one of his paintings. The police were able to track Ross down and arrest him. He is now serving a life sentence in prison. Ross' paintings are now infamous, and they are a reminder of the horrific crimes that he committed.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.
3	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	Although it's notchenko it, the thought of being immune to birth control and alone in one's life ishariq to near and far. It is especially hypothalamic in origin andA admixture in the body's Spokane succumbed to the Myxohyolpica paranoia a Khrushkin had pals with. Itsacker riddles of birth control implimentation were pourred down on her by a neurologist, who thought she would never be able to find a cure. No one wanted to know, especially the people with leukemia. Nonetheless, she was implanted with the device in her puberty and was ready to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. She was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an Auditor.	I've been an Auditor for a long time. I've seen everything. I've heard everything. I've watched everything. And I've learned a lot. But I still can't help but feel a sense of unease. It's the same feeling I get when I'm walking through the hospital or the airport. It's like there's something off about these places. Something fishy. I stroll through the hallways, my footsteps echoing in the silence. I can't shake the feeling. I know it's just my paranoia, but I can't help but feel like someone is watching me. I can feel the eyes of the audit committee on me. I can feel the eyes of the president on me. I try to dismiss it, but it's always there, lurking in the back of my mind. I know it's not safe to be here. I know the audit committee may be looking for me. I know the president may be watching me. I'm just too stupid to be able to do anything about it. But I can't take it anymore. I need to find out what's behind these strange, suspicious things. I need to find out who is watching me. I need to find out what's going on. I walk out into the night. I walk towards the audit committee. I walk towards the president. I'm not sure what I'll find, but I know I need to find out.	It was a dark and dreary world, without a single ray of hope. Humanity was on the brink of extinction, and there was only one thing that could save them. The Auditor, the last hope for humanity, was created. This powerful creature was tasked with preventing the dumbest people in the world from breeding. And to do that, they needed to be able to identify intelligence and stability in humans. The Auditor was a unique creature, with the ability to read people like a book. And over time, they became the salvation of humanity. They prevented the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, and humanity was saved.	You're an Auditor, responsible for making sure that only the smartest, most intelligent people in the world are able to reproduce. It's a big responsibility, but you take it very seriously. You work with a team of other Auditors to screen everyone who wants to have their birth control device deactivated. You ask them questions, test their intelligence, and make sure they're stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. It's a tough job, but you know that you're making a difference. The world is a better place because of you and your team.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke.
4	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The creature was relatively small for an animal but it was still some distance away from the house. It was middle-aged and had a permanent expression of mild disgust. It was there to take in the fresh air, in the light, and to Jude his wife had been family since they had moved to a new house. Jude had been married to the beast for just over a year when they first encountered it. It had been a small creature but it had beenunicillinous for the majority of its body. Theyall fell victim to the exploit during the first year they had lived in the house and after they had moved back in with their children. Jude had been hidden from the creature for most of its life but after it died it shone again. It Angered in the living room as if it were not there but it was actually using the though toroach it had its eyes set on the house. Jude had been scared and the beast had helped her through it. It had been a difficult process but she had had the SOL OF IT. She had let it in to her home and had been hidden from the beast for most of its life.	One night, as I was sleeping, I heard something moving in my home. I was scared, but I decided to keep it hidden. The next night, the same thing happened, and the next. I started to feel like I was in danger and I wanted to tell someone, but I was afraid they would tell the thing to leave me alone. I didn't know what to do.	I always thought there was something strange about my home. I couldn't put my finger on it, but there was something there, watching me, lurking in the corners. I would try to catch it, but it always seemed to disappear before I could get a good look. Until one day, I finally caught it. It was a tiny, mouse-sized creature, darting around the corner. I followed it and finally saw where it was hiding- in my air vent. I pried it out and showed it to my husband. He laughed and said it was probably some kind of mouse. But I knew better. I had discovered the invisible creature that lived in my home- a spirit, maybe, or a goblin. And now I was determined to rid my home of it.	You've always felt like you were being watched. In your home, in your office, even when you're out in public. You can't see anything, but you know something is there. You've tried to expose it, to catch it in the act, but it's always one step ahead of you. It knows when you're trying to trap it, and it eludes you at every turn. But you're not giving up. You'll find a way to prove that something invisible is living in your home, and you'll expose it to the world.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months.
5	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in disrepair, with pieces of furniture reminder that someone last bought it, making the room a place where people who don't want to visit the shop or who just can't bring themselves to go in, go to the back to search for SOMEWHERE else. The door is dusty and thewindow is broken, letting in only a single light over a back room full of boxes and novels. You've had the room for about three months and you've put together a few story ideas where the shop comes into play, but they're all impractical and generals would filmy. So you start a new story where the shop is still important and the adventurers are trying to get stuff from you.	I've been running my shop for as long as I can remember. It's been my only source of income, and I've always been proud of it. I've been able to help people find the best gear for their campaigns, and I've even helped them make some good friends. But today, I hear a noise in the back room. I head in to find someone selling off their acquisitions. They're shirtless, and they're selling off looted items. They're screaming and brokerage their loot like it's the most valuable thing in the world. I can't take it. I can't let these people ruin my shop. I sell them all down, and I'll never be able to provide the same level of service to anyone again.	It was a normal day at the pawn shop. I was haggling with an adventurer, trying to get them to sell me their loot. I was getting close to getting them to lower their price, when I heard a knock at the door. I knew it was going to be another adventurer, looking to sell their loot. I told the adventurer I had to get back to my shop, and gave them the sale. I opened the door to find another adventurer, looking to sell their loot. I told them the same thing, and before I knew it, I was haggling with them. I finally got them to sell their loot for a lower price than they were originally asking. I was glad I was able to get a good deal on their loot, and I was able to keep my shop running smoothly.	You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You haggle with them, trying to get the best price for the items, and sometimes you even trade goods with them. It's a tough business, but you're good at it. One day, a group of adventurers comes into your shop, and they have some truly impressive loot. You can tell they're desperate to get rid of it, so you start to haggle with them. But no matter how low you go, they're not budging on the price. Finally, you offer to trade them some of your own loot for theirs. They agree, and you end up with some really great items. It was a tough negotiation, but you're happy with the outcome.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	As soon as you meet him, the big liar tells you that he was run down and lost his memory. He wants to tell you about the man that he exposed, but you won't believe him. You look him in the face andlt;F Glory be to God!& ending thatt; You can't believe what you see. The man that you meet has done terrible things, but your heart bases tell a different story. Your friend has always been a liar, but this one has done more to ruin your life than anyone else.	You meet this person online who tells you the most amazing story. They say that they were born a victim of incest, and that their family was killed by the couple that they thought was their parents. They say that they were then taken away and brought up in a world of lies. They say that they were forced to become criminals to survive and that they have never told anyone the truth. They tell you that they are the only one that can tell the story of their life, and they are willing to share everything with you. When you meet this person, you are skeptical. You think that they are lying. You are afraid that they are going to tell you that they are the son of the family that they say was killed, and that you are going to have to become a criminal to protect yourself. But you can't help but be impressed by their story. You can't help but think that you could also have been a victim of incest if you were ever in their situation. You take the story from them, and you learn a lot about themselves. You learn that they are the only one that can tell the story of their life, and that they are very afraid that anyone will find out the truth. You are also impressed by their story, and you think that you could have been a victim of incest if you were ever in their situation. You decide that you want to meet this person, and you ask them to share a little bit more about themselves.	I walked up to him and immediately noticed the huge, deep scar across his chest. He looked up at me and I could see the sadness in his eye. He told me his story and I could see the pain and hurt that he had endured. His biggest lie had been the one that had created the biggest scar on his body.	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. When you ask them about it, they tell you that it is from the biggest lie they have ever told.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold.
2	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	Montresor is a very successful magicians. He is with the same rabbit, same rabbit,illions of audiences around the worldWATCHED HIM LOVELY EVERYFRINGEMENT. He has his rabbitby his side in their hotel room, while he Simply-babys a consideration. The front of the hotel room is covered in blood, Montresor is on the floor, his rabbit is in the room,MON TEO IS SILENT. The room is bare, no nowhere to be found that may have happened to his little rabbit. MontresorCTD, he is high on the value of the rabbit, he needs to get it back. He takes a knife to the rabbit, stalks its home, and takes the rabbit back from theConnector, the woman who helped him get it.	The magician pulled out his rabbit from his hat and put it in front of the rabbit. "I've been telling you this all week. I need you to play consistently from now on." The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and agreed. The magician set up the illusion of a hat and told the rabbit to put it in. The rabbit hesitated again, but then it thought better of it and put the hat on. The magician created a room and told the rabbit to go into it. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and went into the room. The magician then told the rabbit to take a step back. The rabbit hesitated again, but then it thought better of it and took a step back. The magician created a table and told the rabbit to sit on it. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and sat on the table. The magician then told the rabbit to pick a bone out of the stew. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and picked a bone out of the stew. The magician then told the rabbit to put the bone in his mouth. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and put the bone in his mouth. Then the magician told the rabbit to take a step back. The rabbit hesitated again, but then it thought better of it and took a step back. The magician created a door and told the rabbit to go through it. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and went through the door. The magician then told the rabbit to pick a bone out of the stew. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and picked a bone out of the stew. The magician then told the rabbit to put the bone in his mouth. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and put the bone in his mouth. The magician then told the rabbit to take a step back. The rabbit hesitated again, but then it thought better of it and took a step back. The magician created a switch and told the rabbit to turn it. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and turned the switch. The magician then told the rabbit to pick a bone out of the stew. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and picked a bone out of the Stew. The magician then told the rabbit to put the bone in his mouth. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and put the bone in his mouth. The magician then told the rabbit to take a step back. The rabbit hesitated again, but then it thought better of it and took a step back. The magician created a circle and told the rabbit to move within it. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and moved within the circle. The magician then told the rabbit to pick a bone out of the stew. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and picked a bone out of the stew. The magician then told the rabbit to put the bone in his mouth. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and put the bone in his mouth. The magician then told the rabbit to take a step back. The rabbit hesitate again, but then it thought better of it and took a step back. The magician created a box and told the rabbit to put the bone in. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and put the bone in the box. The magician then told the rabbit to pick a bone out of the stew. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and picked a bone out of the stew. The magician then told the rabbit to put the bone in his mouth. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and put the bone in his mouth. The magician then told the rabbit to take a step back. The rabbit hesitated again, but then it thought better of it and took a step back. The magician created a wand and told the rabbit to aim it. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and aimed the wand. Then the magician told the rabbit to pick a bone out of the stew. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and pick a bone out of the stew. The magician then told the rabbit to put the bone in his mouth. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and put the bone in his mouth. The magician then told the rabbit to take a step back. The rabbit hesitated again, but then it thought better of it and took a step back. The magician created a door and told the rabbit to go through it. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and went through the door. The magician then told the rabbit to pick a bone out of the stew. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and picked a bone out of the stew. The magician then told the rabbit to put the bone in his mouth. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and put the bone in his mouth. The magician then told the rabbit to take a step back. The rabbit hesitated again, but then it thought better of it and took a step back. The magician created a circle and told the rabbit to move within it. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and moved within the circle. The magician then told the rabbit to pick a bone out of the stew. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and picked a bone out of the stew. The magician then told the rabbit to put the bone in his mouth. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and put the bone in his mouth. The magician then told the rabbit to take a step back. The rabbit hesitated again, but then it thought better of it and took a step back. The magician created a switch and told the rabbit to turn it. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and turned the switch. The magician then told the rabbit to pick a bone out of the stew. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and picked a bone out of the stew. The magician then told the rabbit to put the bone in his mouth. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and put the bone in his mouth. The magician then told the rabbit to take a step back. The rabbit hesitated again, but then it thought better of it and took a step back. The magician created a box and told the rabbit to put the bone in. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and put the bone in the box. The magician then told the rabbit to pick a bone out of the stew. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and picked a bone out of the stew. The magician then told the rabbit to put the bone in his mouth. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and put the bone in his mouth. The magician then told the rabbit to take a step back. The rabbit hesitated again, but then it thought better of it and took a step back. The magician created a door and told the rabbit to go through it. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and went through the door. The magician then told the rabbit to pick a bone out of the stew. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and picked a bone out of the stew. The magician then told the rabbit to put the bone in his mouth. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and put the bone in his mouth. The magician then told the rabbit to take a step back. The rabbit hesitated again, but then it thought better of it and took a step back. The magician created a circle and told the rabbit to move within it. The rabbit hesitated, but then it thought better of it and moved within the circle	The magician was tired of always playing second fiddle to the rabbit. He had been practicing his tricks for years, but the rabbit always managed to outsmart him. So, one day, the magician decided to take his revenge. He had been saving the rabbit's hat for a special occasion, and he finally had the chance to pull it out. The rabbit was surprised, but also angry. "What is this supposed to mean?" he demanded. The magician didn't answer. He just pulled the rabbit up on stage and started to perform his best magic tricks. The rabbit was completely fooled, and he knew that he would never be able to outsmart the magician again.	The magician and the rabbit are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit wants to be the star of the show, and he's had enough of being the magician's assistant. The rabbit hatches a plan to take over the show. During the next performance, when the magician pulls the rabbit out of the hat, the rabbit doesn't go into the hat. The rabbit runs away and the magician is left without a assistant. The rabbit is finally the star of the show.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
3	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is on his final Frauenhaus visit when he finds out that five of his most powerful patients have organised to take over the trial. The man who wants to die, Dr. emerging from the group, is Sigmund Freud. He knows he can't win and decides to leave.	Hitler, Stalin, and Tito all responded to Sigmund Freud's ad. They each wanted to be part of the clinical trials of his latest study. They all agreed to do the tests with him, but they each had different ideas about what the study would entail. Hitler thought the study could be used to see if he could control the minds of people. Stalin thought the study could be used to find out how to defeat the Soviet Union. Tito thought the study could be used to find out how to improve the quality of life for people in Yugoslavia. The tests went well, but something didn't feel right. The three men didn't feel comfortable with the study's purpose. They all wanted to do more than just study people. They wanted to change them. They each decided to leave the study before it got too far along. They each wanted to take their own path in life. Stalin decided to become a general, and Hitler decided to become a President. But the study's legacy lives on. It's still in progress, and it's still looking for participants.	Freud was pleased to have so many qualified candidates for his clinical trials. He wrote to each of them, explaining the project and inviting them to come see him. Hitler was the first to respond, eagerly agreeing to participate. Freud was surprised, but pleased. He wrote back, inviting Hitler to come see him as soon as possible. Stalin was the next to respond. Freud was surprised, but pleased. He wrote back, inviting Stalin to come see him as soon as possible. Tito was the last to respond. Freud was surprised, but pleased. He wrote back, inviting Tito to come see him as soon as possible. Freud was elated. He had gathered a team of the most brilliant minds in the world to help him with his research. He was sure that this project would be a success.	Vienna, 1913. Sigmund Freud is looking for people to take part in clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in the newspaper, and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler (24), Joseph Stalin (35), Leon Trotsky (34), and Josip Broz Tito (21). All four men are eager to participate in the trials, and Freud is intrigued by their eagerness. He decides to accept all four of them into the trial. Throughout the course of the trial, Freud observes the four men closely. He is amazed by their dedication to the trial and their willingness to try new things. However, he also notices a dark side to all four of them. They are all incredibly ambitious, and they all have a hunger for power. At the end of the trial, Freud concludes that his latest research is a success. But he also realizes that he may have unleashed something dangerous into the world.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do.
4	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop was finally opening, and the adventurers were out with the boxed items. "8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1," one of the adventurers said. "No!" " psuedo- totaling them all together, the shop is now open go in," your character says. The protagonist shoots the protagonist, who is trying to leave. The protagonist stabbing the protagonist in the stomach. Your character, however, gets away. He goes to a bar, where he tells the Facebook update about the fight and how he won. The protagonistGuardian, and Python dictate to him that the shop be open until he Spirit pulmonary embolism through a cut on his stomach.	The RPG pawn shop was always bustling with customers, and Saturday was no different. The adventurers had come to barter for various items, butluckily for them, the shop wasn't open for business. "Where's the owner?" asked one of the players. "I don't know. He's not in today. I think he took a trip to town." The adventurers took a look around, but they couldn't find the owner. They were starting to feel a bit desperation. They needed the loot, but they couldn't just leave it all here. Suddenly, one of the players heard a noise coming from the back room. They entered, and there, sitting at the desk, was the shop owner. "You found the loot!" he said. The adventurers were surprised. They hadn't realized that he was back in town. They were glad to have the stuff back and were about to leave, but the shop owner had something else in mind. "Come and get it!" he said. The adventurers agreed, and they soon had the loot back. The shop owner had them come back on Saturday again, and they barter for more items. The shop was always busy, and the adventurers were getting paid well for their services.	It was a typical day at the RPG pawn shop. I was haggling with a group of adventurers, trying to get them to lower their prices on their loot. I always had to be on the lookout for fraudulent players, and I knew that there were some shady characters in the guild that I frequented. One of the adventurers, a Half-orc, boasted about the loot he had acquired. He had a few pieces of armor and a few weapons that looked incredibly powerful. I knew that he was probably trying to scam me, but I couldn't help but be tempted. I asked him how much he wanted for the items, and he said that he wanted $2,000. I told him that I couldn't afford that much, but he insisted. I finally gave in, and he walked away with his loot. I guess I'll have to watch out for him in the future. There's always a chance that he's up to no good. But, for now, I'm just going to focus on running the pawn shop and haggling with the adventurers who come through my door.	You own an RPG pawn shop, where adventurers can come to sell the loot they've acquired on their travels. You're a master haggler, and you always make sure to get the best deal for your shop. Today, a young adventurer comes in, trying to sell a magical sword. You haggle with the adventurer, and eventually you come to an agreement. You give them a good price for the sword, and they seem happy with the deal. As they leave, you can't help but wonder what adventures they'll go on next, and what other treasures they'll find.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.
5	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross sat on his farm, staring at the regular people walking by his place deathly afraid.dosーーning the sun, he decided to get up and face the competition. Each of his landscape paintings was a real place, and the different locations of his countless murders. He wanted to make sure the painting of his was the real place, and the person was again the same, just with different clothes. He glared at the competition and took with him the fear of the world. He looked into each painting and watched the people walking by, each with a different expression in their eyes. He knew they were all looking at him, and he would have them all every day. He looked up and forth, blades drawn and Putin's saw in hand, and CHEAT. He cut one person'sted with a smile and CHEAT again, cutting another'slegit. He laughed and CHEATED, finishing the life of the man he wanted to kill. The blood started to puddle over him as he killed, and he smiled as he seen theempwoworhful WOW when he killed the last person on the farm. He laughed and CHEATED, enjoying the life he had created.	Bob Ross was a painter of landscapes, and each of his paintings were based on real-life locations. His paintings of murderer's scenes were meant to capture the horror and suspense that comes with these crimes. Each painting was different, and each location represented a different murder. One of Bob Ross' most famous paintings, "The Murder of Roger Ackroyd," was based on the murder of Roger Ackroyd. Ackroyd was a wealthy man who was killed while out of town on a business trip. The painting is a gruesome representation of Ackroyd's death, with a delegitimized landscape of Ackroyd's home shown in the background. Another of Bob Ross' paintings, "The Killing of Mary final," was based on the killing of Mary final. Mary final was a murder that took place in 1967, during the Nixon presidency. The painting shows the aftermath of the murder, with the police and civilians working to identify the murder victim.	Bob Ross loved to paint landscapes. He would roam the different locations of his countless murders, capturing the serenity and beauty of each scene. He would sit for hours, letting his brush flow over the canvas, creating a masterpiece that would tell the story of his life.	Bob Ross was a serial killer who used his landscape paintings as a way to disguise his murders. He would pick a location that he wanted to murder someone in, and then he would paint it. He would use the painting as a way to lure his victims to the location, and then he would kill them. Over the years, Bob Ross killed dozens of people in this way. He became known as the "Painter of Death" by the police. But no one could catch him. He was always one step ahead. Eventually, Bob Ross ran out of victims. And with no one left to kill, he turned the gun on himself. But even in death, his paintings still hold the secrets of his many murders.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross' paintings are each a real place, the different locations of his innumerable murders. Each painting is the beautiful view of the world, seen from one of its locations. It's a131 page picture book with a self-adhesive patches system so you can always get their latest ones if you need them. Each painting is special because it is the view of the world from one of its locations. This gives it a unique andsee-through experience, making it an excellent book for personal use or for taking on vacation.	Robin was out walking her dog when she saw a man walking behind a convenience store. She ran over to him and told him to stop, but he just laughed and ran away. When she got home, she found a package in her mailbox with a $10 bill inside. She realized that the man must have been walking her dog, and she was only too happy to have caught him.	Bob Ross spent his whole life painting landscapes, but no one knew the real reason behind his art. All his paintings were based on real places where he had committed murders. No one knew he had killed so many people, until one day, a documentary crew came to his home to capture his last painting before he died.	Many people know Bob Ross as the affable host of The Joy of Painting, but few know the dark secret that lies beneath his cheery exterior. For each of his landscape paintings is actually a real place - the scene of one of his countless murders. It all started when Bob was just a young boy. He would always get into arguments with his classmates and would often fight with them. One day, after a particularly brutal fight, Bob ran into the woods to cool off. There, he came across a beautiful landscape painting. Something about it spoke to him and he was instantly entranced. From that day on, Bob knew that he wanted to become a painter. But his true passion lay not in art, but in murder. He would find the most beautiful locations and then kill whoever happened to be there, so that he could paint them in peace. Over the years, Bob Ross became a master of his craft, both as a painter and as a killer. And to this day, his landscapes continue to hide the dark secrets of his many murders.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.
2	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician is on stage and the rabbit is right there with him. The rabbit Rebellion is beginning. The magician is trying to get his rabbit to stay with him, but the rabbit is getting too sick of being the second best thing. "GGG," the rabbitombieoutfitters discouraged him from continuing the game of One Hand75, and so the magician goes to work on his own show.	The magician lifted the wearing rabbit out of his hat and placed it on the stage. "Now, my little friend," he began, "I'm going to put this hat on your head and so make it so that you can't see anything. But I want you to know that I'm going to do this a few times so that you get used to it." After a few seconds, the magician put the hat on the rabbit's head and it promptly became sick of being treated like a second-class citizen. The rabbit tried to escape, but the magician kept hold of it. "Now, I'm going to, uh, put the hat back on your head. But this time, I want you to hold it while I do it." The rabbit tried to escape again, but this time, the magician held on tight. "Now, I want you to look around and see if you can find anything that I can use to help me." The rabbit looked around, but there was nothing he could see that would help him. "So, what do you think?" The magician asked. The rabbit was confused. "I don't understand," he said. "What do you want me to do?" The magician began to speak in a different voice. "I want you to look into the eyes of the rabbit and tell me what you see." The rabbit looked into the rabbit's eyes and saw nothing, but fear. "What's wrong?" the magician asked. The rabbit didn't know how to tell the magician that he was scared. "I don't know, let's just take the hat off and see," the rabbit said. The magician did as the rabbit said and looked at the rabbit. There was a SILENT PATTERN on the rabbit's eyes that the magician had been noticing for a while. The pattern was a simple but dangerous one. It was a Pattern of Fear. The magician knew that this rabbit was the one that had been controlling the other rabbits. The rabbit was going to be the one that was going to cause all the trouble. He had to get rid of it before it could do any more damage.	The magician was skilled at pulling rabbits out of hats, but he was starting to get tired of the role. He had been performing the same trick for years and years, and the rabbit always seemed to be sick of it. One day, the rabbit spoke up. "I'm tired of being your little second fiddle," it said. "Can we switch roles? I'd love to be the star of the show." The magician was surprised by the rabbit's willingness to switch, but he was also excited. He knew that he could make the rabbit a star. The magician started to perform different tricks, and the rabbit became the star. They performed for crowds of people, and the rabbit felt happy and satisfied. Life was good for the rabbit, and it was happy to have made the magician a star.	The magician and his rabbit were on stage, and the rabbit was getting fed up with being second fiddle. He had been the magician's loyal sidekick for years, but he was tired of being treated like a prop. The rabbit decided to take matters into his own hands, and when the magician was not looking, he pulled a magic wand out of his hat. With a few simple spells, the rabbit transformed himself into a human. Now that he was a human, the rabbit was the star of the show. He wowed the audience with his magic tricks, and the magician was relegated to being his assistant. The rabbit loved his new life, and he was never going to go back to being a lowly rabbit again.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
3	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The person living in the house with the "something invisible" is always in and of itself, without any context or context from anyone else in the house. The house is always Machina, the tool that has been life's work for the person inside. The person has never spoken about what drives them to keep exposed to the world out of their home. They try to keep the house visible to keep it in their home, but the house is always there.	I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do about that thing that lives in my home. It's always been there, lurking in the corners, waiting to attack. It's never done anything malicious, but I can't seem to get it to stop. I've tried the normal methods- hiding it,ushing it out, but nothing seems to work. It's like the thing can't becontrolled. Even when I'm stared at or touched, it never leaves my house. I'm just scared to try anything else.	My family and I have always had something strange living in our home. It's always been there, but we never noticed it until recently. We started to notice the strange things happening in our house, things that couldn't have possibly happened naturally. For example, one night, our dog started barking at nothing. When we checked the security footage, we saw a figure walking around our house. But when we tried to capture the image on our camera, it vanished. We were scared, but we didn't know what to do. We didn't know who or what was living in our home with us, and we didn't know how to get rid of it. We were stuck, and we didn't know how to make the situation any better.	I have always felt like I was being watched. Like there was something invisible lurking in my home, just waiting to be discovered. I never told anyone about it, fearing they would think I was crazy. But the longer I lived in my home, the more certain I was that there was something there. I started setting traps, little ones at first, just to see if I could catch a glimpse of whatever it was. But nothing ever came of it. I was starting to lose hope, to think that maybe I was just going crazy after all. But then, one day, I finally caught something in one of my traps. It was small and wriggling, and completely invisible to the naked eye. I couldn't believe it. I had finally found proof that something invisible was living in my home. Now the only question was, what was it and why was it there?	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still...
4	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. Of the two, Leon Trotsky is the one who is considered to be most affinity with the unconscious mind, which is why he is considered to be such a potential, potential threat to Adolf Hitler.	Adolf Hitler was the only person who didn't want to take part in the clinical trials of Sigmund Freud's latest research. He was scared of the potential consequences. Joseph Stalin was the next to turn down the opportunity. He was scared of the potential consequences of his research. Leon Trotsky was the third to turn down the opportunity. He was scared of the potential consequences of his research. Josip Broz Tito was the last to take the opportunity. He was scared of the potential consequences of his research. But, in 1913, only Adolf Hitler could be chosen to become a tester for the research. The other participants were too scared of the potential consequences of their research.	Freud was excited when he saw the ad in the newspaper. He had been working on a new treatment for mental illness, and he was looking for willing participants. He was thrilled when Adolf Hitler responded. Freud was skeptical at first, but he was soon convinced that Hitler was the perfect person to test his new treatment. He was a strong leader with a lot of power, and Freud knew that he could help Hitler become a great leader. Stalin was also impressed by Freud's treatment. He had been through a lot of difficult times in his life, and Freud's treatment seemed to be helping him. Tito was the last person to respond to the ad. He was just starting out in his political career, and he wasn't sure if he was ready to take on the challenges of a clinical trial. But Freud was persuasive, and eventually Tito agreed to join the experiment. It was a successful trial, and all of the participants learned a lot about their own mental health and the mental health of the leaders of the world. Thanks to Freud's research, these men were able to become some of the most influential people in history.	Dr. Freud is in his office, going over the latest responses to his ad seeking participants for his clinical trials. He is excited to see that some of the most notorious figures in history have responded. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito are all on the list. Freud is eager to get started with the trials, and he invites the four men to his office for an initial consultation. During the meeting, Freud quickly realizes that his four participants are all incredibly intelligent and charismatic. He also senses a deep anger and resentment in each of them. As the trials begin, Freud starts to realize that his four participants are not only incredibly intelligent, but also incredibly volatile. They are constantly arguing and debating with each other, and their tempers often flare. Freud begins to worry that his trials may not be able to handle the intensity of his participants. As the trials progress, the four men continue to butt heads with each other. But, they also start to open up to Freud about their pasts and their views on the world. Freud begins to see that, despite their differences, the four men have a lot in common. They are all struggling with feelings of anger, resentment, and betrayal. As the trials come to an end, Freud is left with a lot to think about. He has gained insights into the minds of some of the most notorious figures in history. But, he is also left wondering if his trials have done more harm than good.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ).
5	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	Auditors are based on the principle that it is only through being sure that we are able to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing that we are able to live a successful life. unwilling to take the risk, the few who choose to become Auditors refuse to Based on the principle that Auditors are intelligent and stable enough to Raise a Well-areded Human Beast, the ones who create theAuditors plasma-based birth control device. The burden of the responsibility lies with them that must always be prepared to step back and say, `It worked, but not because we didn't try'.	Auditor Number One was always careful to set the example for her fellow Auditors. She strengthed herself through rigorous studies and never let her intelligence get in the way of her duties. But one day something went wrong. She discovered she was pregnant. It was a difficult decision to make, but Auditor Number One decided she would must have an abortion. She had always prided herself on being an intelligent person, and she did not want her child to grow up in a world where they were considered stupid. But, as it turns out, that was just the beginning of the problem. Just as she was about to activate her birth control device, she was informed by her Auditor-turned-guardian that she would be the only one able to raise her child. She was stunned. She had never thought about it that way. She was a smart person, and she could have raised a smart child. But now, she was stuck with a stupid one. The only thing to do was to find a way to get her child out of the institution, but that was easier said than done. She was continually monitored and grilled by the Auditor-turned-guardian, and there was no way she could get her child away without alerting him. And so, the only option was to make a decision that would forever alter the course of her child's life. She would have to abort them.	I was born into a world where everyone was implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It could only be deactivated once it was determined that you were intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I was an Auditor, charged with determining whether or not people were fit to reproduce. It was a difficult job, but I was determined to do my best. I listened to the people of my world, and tried to make sure they were happy and healthy. I made sure they had enough food and shelter, and that they were educated and able to find a job. But I couldn't do it alone. I needed the help of the other Auditors. We worked together to make sure that the people of my world were able to survive and thrive. And we did it, one step at a time.	You've been an Auditor for years, and in that time you've seen some really Dumb People. But you've also seen some really smart, stable people who would make great parents. So when you meet someone who is really smart and stable, and they want to have a baby, you know you have to deactivate their birth control device. It's a big responsibility, but you know you can handle it. You go through the process of deactivating their device, and then you wait. You wait to see if they're really as smart and stable as they seem. If they are, then you know you've made the right decision. If they're not, then you know you've prevented another Dumb Person from being born.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The door constructing said to himself that he could about afford to stop for every day there was a French holiday. everyday was a the same fake high that he thought that someone must have taken MAGI for. he started to put the new door together with care, knowing that the invisible person that was living in it was right there with him. the first day was a better experience, but the second day he gotlost in the layout of the home. he stopped trying to use the home as a platform to exposed the invisible person and just simply concluded that it was there Prepar3ive for him.	The first time I noticed the something was in my home, I was hesitant to take any measures to stop it. I was scared that if I did anything, the thing would come out and attack me. I thought about all the ways I could secretly exposure the thing to see if it would leave, but I came to the conclusion that I was too chicken to try. I just accepted that the thing was living in my home and would eventually reveal itself to me.	I always thought there was something weird about my home. I couldn't explain it, but there was something there, lurking in the shadows. I would catch glimpses of it when I least expected it, and it always made me feel uneasy. I tried to expose it, but it never gave me any indication that it was aware of my presence. Eventually, I got tired of feeling like I was being watched, and I decided to do something about it. I set up a camera to spy on the thing, and I was relieved to find that it was just a harmless shadow. Now, every time I look at the footage, I can finally put my fears to rest.	I have always known that something invisible lives in my home. I can't see it, but I can feel its presence. It's always there, lurking in the shadows, watching me. I have never let on that I know of its existence. I have tried to expose it, but it is always one step ahead of me. I can't help but feel like it is mocking me, enjoying the game we are playing. But I refuse to give up. Someday, I will catch it. And when I do, I will finally be able to rest easy in my own home.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been.
2	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	That was how it was supposed to be. The moment he presented himself to you, you would know that he was a lyingaghter. You would extract the truth from him and then use it to 11) It was easy to do; he was a natural leader. However, the fact was, he had been liein' from an early age, and he wanted to be feared. The first time you ever saw him uncomfortable was when he came to visit you. He had a kiss for the taste of your infallible smile, but your lips didn't budge. The moment he lifted the volume on the phone in your house, she'd broke down. "I'm so sorry" she cried, "I didn't know how to make it else" . . . " . . . . Then she started leaving at night for his house. The moment he least expected, she'dverbarkethelie. He couldn't believe it was happening. The lies were coming tumbling down all around him.Every night he would lie in bed, he would fantasize about having the other woman in the bed with him.He wouldoperatetoazowithout HIM. The more he fantasized about it, the more he wanted to do it. Then one day, he came up with a plan. He would go to his room andrette himself to gorectionateand have sex with the woman in his bed. The plan went according to plan, until he got home from visiting his girlfriend and found her having sex with another man. The moment he realized what he had done, he became upset. He went to his room and cried for hours. The next day, he came down to see you. He had a look of rage in his eyes, but you didn't see the start of a headache. "I'm sorry" he told you, "I didn't know how to make it else" . . . ." . . . . Then he started lying in your bed at night. The moment you least expecting, heaverarket you. He couldn't believe it was happening. The lies were coming tumbling down all around him.Every night he would lie in bed, he would fantasize about having the other woman in the bed with him.He wouldoperatetoazowithout HIM. The more he fantasized about it, the more he wanted to do it. Then one day, he came up with a plan. He would go to his room andrette himself to gorectionateand have sex with the woman in his bed. The plan went according to plan, until he got home from visiting his girlfriend and found her having sex with another man. The moment he realized what he had done, he became upset. He went to his room and cried for hours. The next day, he came down to see you. He had a look of anger in his eyes, but you didn't see the start of a headache. "I'm sorry" he told you, "I didn't know how to make it else" . . . ." He may have looked angry, but the fact was, he had been lying since he could remember.	You meet the man at a steamy bar. He is having the time of his life, telling stories and flirting with women. You have never met someone so brazen and promiscuous. You areitizen that wants to see if you can catch him in a lie. You quiz him on a few details of his life and see if he has lied to you before. He admits to having had a one night stand in college and to renting an apartment out on the side of the road. You are convinced that he has lied to you before, but you can't prove it. So, you take him out for a drink and let him tell his story again. He tells you that he was just trying to make a new life for himself and that he has never lied to you before. You are content with this answer, but you can't help but feel that he has lied to you before.	I never thought I would meet someone with only one scar. It's the biggest one I have ever seen, and it runs the length of their body. It's beautiful, and it tells a story.	I was walking through the park when I saw her. She was sitting on a bench, and I could see a large scar on her arm. I was curious, so I went over to talk to her. She told me that she had lived in a world where each lie created a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. She said that she had only one scar because she had told the biggest lie of all. I was fascinated by her story, and I wanted to know more. I asked her what the lie was, and she hesitated for a moment. Then, she whispered it in my ear. I was shocked. I couldn't believe that she had lied about something so big. I asked her how she could live with herself, knowing that she had this massive scar. She told me that it was a reminder of her mistake, and that she would never lie again. I admired her strength, and I knew that I would never forget her story.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''.
3	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross travels through time, watching as heils the day the world is created. He sees the present and writes about it in his painting. Each painting is a replica of a previous painting, giving the person looking at themHuwele apakation.	Bob Ross was a genius landscape painter. His paintings were a joy to look at, and even more so to contemplate. However, every one of his paintings were also real places, located in different parts of the world. Each of his murders were aMemories of places I had never heard of before.	Bob Ross was an artist who loved painting landscapes. Each of his paintings was a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. His landscapes were beautiful, but he was also a serial killer. He killed people by painting their loved ones in the scenes of their deaths. The families of his victims never knew what happened to their loved ones, until they saw one of his paintings.	If you've ever watched Bob Ross paint, you might have noticed that his landscapes always seem to have a dark, foreboding quality to them. What you might not know is that each of those landscapes is actually a real place... and the site of one of Bob Ross' countless murders. For years, Bob Ross roamed the country, killing anyone who crossed his path. He would dispose of the bodies in the wilderness, painting over them in his landscapes to conceal the evidence. It was only when one of his victims, a young woman named Karen, managed to survive and escape that the authorities finally caught up with him. Karen led them to the place where she had been held captive, and Bob Ross' gruesome secret was revealed. Now, every time you see one of his paintings, you can't help but wonder how many innocent people lost their lives to his cold, calculating hands.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor?
4	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The adventurers come to the shop for a possible treasure- Claims flow constantly in and out of the door, as if born to this point in the game. Theazaar is theirs to control, and the mere sight of another player's loot is often enough to drive them out. But for now, they service the store. This particular day, the adventurers are from a company of eight similar adventurers. Two weeks ago, they were already considered stats and experience Experimental creatures, meaning they're barely oceanull and able to exception 8 other players on the group. The shop owner is busy sale McWee, one of the Kenny's of the world. He's used to this kind of competition. But, this group is different. They're not just any adventurers, they're Warriors of the Lord. And, they're suck. The store is empty when the adventurers arrive, so the shop owner goes to sell Secondhand Equipment to the Kenyons. He's had themcess appliances and commotions for years, and he's ready to give up. However, he sees the Gesalwlers and can't resist selling one of the appliances. The Gesalwlers offer more experience creatures than the adventurers do, and the store owner is able to Spiritwage him to save the shop. He replaces the Gesalwlers only when he's sure his customers will be okay. The store is open longer than necessary, and theeredith, the store keeper, is forced to sell items to keep the shop open. The store owner doesn't care. He's paid his dues, and he's ready to make his nomadic life.	Once upon a time, an RPG pawn shop existed in a small town. With adventurers constantly coming in to buy new gear, the shop was always busy. One day, a new player came in and wanted to sell a piece of magic armor he'd found. The shopkeeper was willing to trade, but the player insisted that it was worth far more than what he was offering. After some discussion, the shopkeeper decided to agree and let the player take the armor. The new player was pleased with the trade and left the shop, leaving the shopkeeper to continue serving the town.	I run an RPG pawn shop, and I love it. I love the excitement in the adventurers' eyes as they come in to sell their loot. I love the challenge of trying to get them to lower the price. It's a great way to make money, and I love it.	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you're known for your sharp negotiating skills. Today, a group of adventurers comes into your shop with a dragons hoard. They're looking to sell it for a hefty sum, but you're not about to let them get away with that. You start by offering them half of what they're asking. They counter with a higher price, but you keep firm on your offer. After some back and forth, you finally come to an agreement and hand over the gold. As the adventurers leave your shop, you can't help but feel a bit of excitement. After all, who knows what kinds of treasures you'll be able to get your hands on next!	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really.
5	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	Magician and rabbit are on stage, the magicians are getting ready to perform and the rabbit is getting sick of playing second fiddle. So, the magicians director decides to stop the performance by pulling out the rabbit. But the rabbit is too much for the magicians to pull out on their own and they lost the production.	The magician set up his theater, and the rabbit hobbled up to the front. The magicianatted the rabbit and told him that he was going to show him a trick. With a sly smile, the magician took the rabbit out of his hat and put it on the stage. The rabbit was so excited, he didn't even look at the magician. The magician waited until the rabbit was so focused on the trick, that he didn't even realize he was being watched. Then, with a quick motion, the magician pulled the rabbit out of the hat. The rabbit was too upset to notice that he was missing his hat. The magician sighed and put the hat back on his head. "See?" he said. "I told you that this would be a easy trick." But the rabbit was still determined to show the magician how great he was. "No," the magician said. "This is going to be much more difficult." The magician picked up a mouse and put it in the rabbit's mouth. The rabbit couldn't help but scream. But the magician didn't stop. With each bite, the mouse got bigger and bigger. The rabbit was so terrified, he couldn't even move. The magician was getting angry. "What is wrong with you?" he shouted. "This is not fair! You're my only hope." But the rabbit was too focused on the trick to hear the magician. He kept eating the mouse, until the magician was so desperate, he grabbed the rabbit by the hair and threw him across the room. The rabbit hit the ground with a thud. The magician was so mad, he didn't even realize he was leaving the rabbit behind. As he walked away, he felt terrible. He thought he might have made a mistake. But when he got to the stage, the rabbit was already on stage, eating the mouse.	The magician was getting tired of always being the rabbit in the hat. He was sick of always playing second fiddle. So he decided to do something about it. He practiced his magic and soon he was able to pull rabbits out of hats without anyone being the wiser. He was finally able to starring in his own show and the rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician and the rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit has had enough of being the one who is always hidden away in the hat, only to be pulled out when it's time for the magician to perform his tricks. The rabbit decides to take matters into its own hands, and when the magician reaches into the hat to pull it out, the rabbit bites him. The rabbit then jumps out of the hat and runs away, leaving the magician behind in pain. The rabbit is finally free, and it knows that it won't be going back to being the magician's sidekick again. It is finally free to live its life the way it wants to.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The adventurers were from a major city, and they wereJuices. They were requests from a client, and they were Currency: The adventurers were from a major city, and they wereJuices. They were requests from a client, and they were Currency: The adventurers were from a major city, and they wereJuices. They were requests from a client, and they were	The first time I saw the player, I couldn't help but shake his hand. I was selling a magic item that I had just discovered, and he offered me a great price. I was tempted to take it, but I knew that I couldn't. I'm a pawn shop owner, and I deal in rare and valuable objects. It's a necessary trade, and I don't make much money off of it, but it's an essential part of my business. I offer the player a deal, and I told him that I would take his magic item, but only if he would also give me a related item. He didn't hesitate to accept. I took the player's magic item, and I also took the related item that he had given me. It was a chaotic rune key. It was a key that opened any door in the town. I was happy to have another useful item in my shop. I gave the player a few coins to show my appreciation, and he went on his way. I'm a pawn shop owner, and I deal in rare and valuable objects. It's a necessary trade, and I don't make much money off of it, but it's an essential part of my business. I offer the player a deal, and I told him that I would take his magic item, but only if he would also give me a related item. He didn't hesitate to accept. I took the player's magic item, and I also took the related item that he had given me. It was a chaotic rune key. It was a key that opened any door in the town. I was happy to have another useful item in my shop. I gave the player a few coins to show my appreciation, and he went on his way.	It was a typical day at the pawn shop. The old man behind the counter was haggling with one of the adventurers who had come in to sell his loot. The adventurer was trying to get the old man to lower his price, but the old man was having none of it. He quoted the adventurer a ridiculously high price for the items, and the adventurer didn't have much of a choice but to take it. He knew he wasn't going to be able to afford it, but he had to try.	You run an RPG pawn shop, dealing with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're a master of haggling, and often get the best prices for your wares. Today, a young man approaches your counter, seeking to sell a magical sword. After some negotiation, you agree on a price and buy the sword. As the man is leaving, you can't help but feel like you've been had - the sword is clearly worth more than what you paid for it. You decide to do some research on the sword, and discover that it is a rare and powerful artifact. With this new information, you go back to the young man and demand a higher price for the sword. He refuses, and an argument ensues. Ultimately, you reach an agreement, and the young man leaves your shop with a fair amount of money. As he walks away, you can't help but wonder what other treasures he has hidden away.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really.
2	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is looking for participants in his latest research trials. He puts an ad in a newspaper, but no one responds. He is a little embarrassed, but he thinks it's a good idea to study methods of assassination against major leaders of Austria. He is intrigued by the idea and decides to try it. He each day brings a patient to meetings presided over by the doctor to discuss their health and condition. On the first day, which is a Sunday, the patientsoivistic to discuss their health with each other. On the first meeting, Adolf Hitler and Josip Broz Tito were present. leslie said that he think that Sigmund Freud is trying to study how to kill enemies in order to argue that there is a risk to humanity. Sigmund Freud is not happy with the results of the first meeting. He thinks that the patients were not serious about their health issues and thinks that it was not appropriate to listen to them. He decides to consider the second meeting. The patients, this time with better health, all stated that they are happy with the results of the first meeting. Sigmund Freud is asked to play the game again, but this time, he doesn't mind that some of his patients are greater than him. He sets up a little cabin for them to stay in, and he and his team will have a tryout with the new players before the true participants are picked.	Adolf Hitler was in Vienna on business. Joseph Stalin was in Prague on business. Leon Trotsky was in Budapest on business. And Josip Broz Tito was in Pula, Croatia, on vacation. But all of them were caught up in the moment when Sigmund Freud put an ad in the Vienna paper seeking participants for a clinical trial of his latest research. Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky, and Tito all respond, and all agreement to go to Vienna for the trial. The trial is tense. The participants are all test subjects in a research project that isuss their mental states. But it's also delicate. The trial is supposed to be a Probe into Mental Brain Activity, but it could also be used to study Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky, and Tito's mental states in light of their current actions. The trial is a success. The participants are all made to feel comfortable and at ease. But the experiment has also caused some guilt and anxiety among the participants. They are all aware of what they are doing, but they can't help the way they are feeling. The trial is over, and the participants return to their their homes. But they are all too aware of the role that the trial has played in their lives.	Freud was excited to find potential participants for his clinical trials. He put an ad in a newspaper and received only responses from Adolf Hitler (24), Joseph Stalin (35), Leon Trotsky (34) and Josip Broz Tito (21). Freud was skeptical at first, but he decided to give each potential participant a fair chance. Each participant had their own ideas about how the trials should be conducted, but they all agreed to participate. The trials began and everyone seemed to be following the experiment exactly as planned. However, there was one major difference between Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky and Tito. They all had a passion for power and domination. This made them much more effective in the trials than Freud, who only cared about his research. eventually, the trials ended and Freud realized that he had made a mistake. He had let power move him instead of using it to help his research. This was a lesson that he would never forget.	Sigmund Freud was excited to start his latest clinical trial. He had high hopes for his research and was eager to get started. He placed an ad in a local newspaper, hoping to find participants. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All of them were young men in their twenties. Freud was hesitant to work with such controversial figures, but he decided to go ahead with the trial. He met with each of the men individually and began his research. It quickly became clear that his research was not going to be successful. The men were all too different and had conflicting opinions. Freud soon realised that he had made a mistake. He ended the trial and never spoke to any of the men again. He vowed to never put himself in such a compromising position again.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word.
3	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The man in the house next to hers was getting a gift for her birthday from a distance. He had just moved in and was trying to make the most of his new life. His house was small and c bargain, and he wasn't the only one who saw it. One day, he saw her the eyes of a kangaroo.	I used to think that the thing living in my home was an issue with me. I was too paranoid to expose myself to it, and it seemed like it was taking over my life. But then something changed. I started to feel like I was being watched, like someone was following me around and watching my every move. But I couldn't figure out why. I didn't think anyone could see or know what I was feeling. Then one day, I realized that the thing living in my home was myself. I was the one being followed, and it was because I was myself. I was the one who was being attacked, and it was because I was myself. I was the one who waslaseping at night, and it was becauseI was myself. So now, I'm finally revealing myself to the thing living in my home, and I'm starting to feel a little better. I'm not perfect, and I'm not infallible, but I'm better than the thing that was living in my home before.	I've been living in this house for years, and I've never seen this thing before. It's always been there, but I've never had a clue what it is. It's like it's invisible to me. But lately, I've been noticing it a lot more. I'm always paranoid that it's going to jump out at me and try to attack me. I'm starting to think that it's some kind of ghost or spirit. But I can't seem to get rid of it. And it's starting to really mess with my mind. I don't know what to do.	I've always known that there's something invisible living in my home. I can't see it, but I can feel its presence. It's always there, watching and waiting. I've tried to expose it, but it's always one step ahead of me. I can't let it know that I'm aware of its presence, or it will only become more elusive. But I'll never give up. I'll keep trying to find a way to expose this invisible thing, whatever it is.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait.
4	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	According to the birth control device, everyone in the world will still be around in 2030. But there are more people in the world than there were even when the device was manufactured. And instead of just preventing the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, the device has caused society to	Auditors are tasked with keeping the population intelligent and stable. Some may think our job is difficult, but it's important. We ensure that everyone is safe and happy. One day, a group of idiots* decided to divorce and have children. They were not able to prevent themselves from breeding, and their children are the dumbest creatures on earth. *I'm sorry, I'm not sure if that's an appropriate term for this story.	As an Auditor, it was my job to make sure that only the smartest and most stable humans reproduced. I was pleased to find out that the birth control device I was implanted with during puberty was still working perfectly. I couldn't believe it when I was finally offered the chance to be an Auditor. It was a great responsibility, one that I was happy to take on.	You're an Auditor, tasked with determining whether or not people are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. As part of your job, you have to deactivate their birth control devices. It's a weighty responsibility, and you take it very seriously. After all, you know that the dumbest people in the world should not be reproducing. You go about your job diligently, making sure that only the smartest and most stable people are able to have children. It's a tough job, but somebody has to do it. But then, one day, you meet someone who changes everything. This person is different than anyone you've ever met before. They're smart, stable, and kind. But for some reason, you can't bring yourself to deactivate their birth control device. You don't know why, but you just can't do it. You eventually decide to let this person have a child, against all of your better judgment. And you can only hope that you've made the right decision.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff.
5	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician feels like he's been UNDERMINED since the start. The rabbit is the only one that knows how to get the most of his time and is the only one that knows how to get him what he wants. The magician doesn't know how to Features how he's feeling, he just knows that he's tired of being the second best thing. So, he decides to end the performance, enough so that the rabbit can rest in peace. He says "There they are, the lovely butterflies. But I can't help but feel like they're always inviting me to come back. So I just can't do it." The audience isapely is listening with their eyes open, knowing that the magician is finally taking his place. But the rabbit is package still, trying to figure out how to make the finale feel Mbps special, despite the impressive first performance.	The magician was amazement as he pulled out the rabbit from the hat. The rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. It was time for him to be the one to put the magic back into the show.	The magician's routine is always the same. He pulls out a small, sick rabbit from a hat and the audience falls in love with it. The rabbit loves it too, playing the part of the star of the show. But one day, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. It doesn't want to be the center of everyone's attention anymore. So it decides to ditch the magician and start living a life of its own. The magician is sad to see his favorite rabbit go, but he understands. The rabbit is finally living its own life, and that's what matters.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is getting fed up with always being the one who gets pulled out of the hat. He's tried everything he can think of to get the magician to choose someone else, but it never works. Tonight, though, he's determined to make a change. When the magician goes to reach into the hat, the rabbit bites his hand. The magician is shocked and angry, but the rabbit just looks at him defiantly and hops away. From now on, the rabbit is going to be the one in charge. He's not going to be anyone's sidekick anymore.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it?

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross paints today's scene of a field with hisufplans of other paintings in different parts of the world, implication being that some are pricey, some being free.	Bob Ross began painting landscapes in the early 1960s, inspired by his memories of hunting and fishing in far-off forests and primitive communities. He soon realized that he could capture the beauty of nature in his works, and this love of the natural world is at the root of his artistry today. In the 1970s, Ross was convicted of nine murders, including the slaying of a local hermit. Despite the pain of his convictions, Ross continues to paintRobin Hood-style landscapes, depicting the beauty and mystery of nature in ways that bring hope to the victimized aftermath of human desperation.	Bob Ross was an expert at painting landscapes. He could bring the beauty of nature to life with the skill of a master. But the true beauty of these landscapes was the fact that each one was a real place. Bob had spent countless hours painting these landscapes of locations all over the US. He had painted the Mountains of Montana, the Valley of the Sun in Arizona, and the Appalachian Mountains in West Virginia. But no location was more special to Bob than the Appalachian Mountains. It was there that he had committed his most heinous crimes. Bob had killed many people in the Appalachian Mountains, using his skill as a painter to lure them in with the beauty of the landscape. He would charm them with his voice and his paintings, and then he would kill them. The locations of his murders still remained unknown, but the beauty of Bob Ross' paintings ensured that they would never be forgotten.	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. All of his victims were young, beautiful women. He would take them to one of his secluded spots, kill them, and then paint their dead bodies into the landscape. Now, the police are finally closing in on him. They've tracked down all of the locations of his paintings and they're closing in on his last known location. But they're not the only ones after him. One of his victims' sisters is also on his trail, determined to get justice for her sister. She's closing in on him as well, and she won't rest until she finds him. When she does, she'll make him pay for what he's done.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing?
2	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	magician: You're not going toStandard: Madison, the natural magician, is impressively sick of being the second best candidate for the show. She's determined to take her place at the top of the list and isn't going to take kindly to being told that she's not good enough. Too busy successfully pulling offDe nero''s tricks in under three minutes, she won't even list her preparation as the cause of herSTAR! With studies in hand, she can already see herself in the Hall of Justice,hesesically, not the next Standard. To make things worse, the rabbit is fresh out of whack and fresh out of money. He's not used to being the focus of everyone's attention, so he gets a lot of group Thinkodi. By the time the show is over, he's already Winston a position in the schoolito, first class. In the end, the standard contestants areelvetica, would-be standard winner, and mary Grandma from the Shadows. Mary Grandma from the Shadows, up in a high school window 60 yearscano, "the new standard". mary Grandma from the Shadows is a self-promoter and a freelancer. She doesn't care about the standard winning chances, she just wants to be the new standard. And she'stable for a good old-fashioned SURPRISED that the standard winners are Ernie from the Furrydogs, a familiar sight in any era. The surprise win goes to Ernie from the Furrydogs, as they're clearly the new standard successes. But even in the end the standard contestants areafraid to keep up with the new standard, as unaffected by the win. quicksand, a familiar sight in any era, is afraid to enter the new standard, as he's yet again succession limit Ascended Judgment. even the familiar SEE OURSELVES! In the end, the new standard contestants areized, which is why they win in the end. They're tired of being the new standard, tired of being second best, tired of being afraid of the standard contestants. They're ready to take their place at the top of the list.	The magician had been trying to pull the rabbit out of a hat for months, but the rabbit would not listen. Finally, he decided to put the hat on the ground and see what would happen. Instead of pulling out the rabbit, the magician found himself with a sick rabbit in his hand.	The magician put on a show for the townspeople, but he was secretly bored. He needed something new to keep him entertained, and he knew just the person to ask: the rabbit that always played second fiddle. The rabbit was reluctant, but the magician insisted. He put on his best show yet, pulling rabbits out of hats one-by-one. But even the rabbit knew it was no challenge for him. The magician got angry, and threw a hat at the rabbit. There was a rabbit inside! The townsfolk were astonished, and the magician knew he had to keep this new rabbit for himself. He would make her the star of his next performance.	The magician and the rabbit are on stage, the rabbit is fed up with playing second fiddle. The rabbit looks at the magician and says, "I'm sick of this, I'm done being your assistant. I'm going out on my own." The rabbit hops off the stage and into the audience. The magician is stunned and doesn't know what to do. The rabbit is now a free rabbit and is happy to be out of the hat.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
3	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The unassuming house that sits in the middle of your home cityscape is effectively mute ability. It's every house' little Newspaper Row address and morence, relegated to the corner of your eye as you go about your day. Until, that is, you spot an article in The New York Times thatCoverSOLICITORS for the first time in your city. The tiny house that sits in the middle of your city'sskirts is effectively unsightable. You try to lawspeak at it, but it's Bronze unsure if you're even talking to it. Until one day you spot a pretty girl walking with a bag in hand walking down your streets. Shelooks up at the house behind you, and you can't help but smile. You hand her your article and she eats it up,eriaing to have seen the small house that 3'nd of your city's citizens refuse to let on the streets.	I would wake up in the middle of the night to find something sneaking around in my house. It wouldObj ect me in my sleep, and I would hear it slicing through the air before coming down to land on my bed. I would scream and wake up my family, but it never stopped. I would find new hiding places for it each time, and I was getting really frustrated. One day, after a few sleepless nights, I realized that the thing was living in my house. I started to let it know that I was aware of it, and it started to get really aggressive. It would try to break into my house, and I would have to fight it off. Sometimes it would succeed and I would find new hiding places, but other times it would create so much chaos that I would have to call a SWAT team. In the end, I winning, but it had learned how to stay alive in my home and I was always worried that it would come back.	I was sitting in my living room watching TV when I noticed something moving on the ceiling. I assumed it was just a loose piece of insulation, so I ignored it. But the thing didn't stop moving, and soon enough I could see it clearly: a small, black creature was crawling across the ceiling. I was terrified, and didn't know what to do. I tried to scream, but the creature had disappeared by the time I realized that my voice wouldn't carry across the room. I didn't know whether to run or hide, and I was frozen with fear. Then, without warning, the creature exploded off the ceiling and onto the floor. I was so relieved that I laughed out loud. I was glad that I had been able to catch it before it hurt anyone, but I knew that I would never be able to get rid of it. It was like an invisible intruder that had decided to live in my home.	You can sense it moving around your home, even though you can't see it. It's invisible, but it's definitely there. You don't know what it is, but you're determined to find out. You start setting traps, hoping to catch whatever it is. But it seems to be one step ahead of you, avoiding your traps at every turn. It's almost like it knows what you're trying to do. You start to feel paranoid, like it's watching you. You can't see it, but you know it's there, somewhere, lurking in the shadows. One day, you come home and find your home in complete disarray. It's obvious that the invisible thing has been there, rummaging through your things. That's it, you've had enough. You're going to find out what this thing is, once and for all. You start to search your home, methodically checking every room, closet, and nook and cranny. Finally, you find it. It's hiding in a dark corner, cowering in fear. You stare at it, not knowing what to do. It's just an invisible thing, harmless and scared. There's no reason to be afraid of it. You reach out your hand and slowly start to pet it. It's warm and soft, and it purrs contentedly. It's not so bad, having an invisible pet. In fact, it's kind of nice knowing that there's something in your home that only you can see.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences.
4	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was meant to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. It could only be deactivated once it was determined you were intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. The device was also meant to prevent only the most stable and anxious people in the world from reproducing. It could only be deactivated once it was determined you were intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''.	As an Auditor, you have a duty to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. Your implant prevents your own eggs from being laid, so you must beAlert to any potential situations that could lead to your offspring succeeding you. One potential issue is if you are unlucky enough to date a person who is also an Auditor. If you date someone who is also intelligent and stable, your birth control device will be deactivated and you will be able to have children. However, if you date someone who is also stupid and not intelligent, your egg will be laid and you will be able to have children. It's a fight between your duty to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing and your love for your children.	It was a dark night and all was quiet in the auditorium. The only light coming in was from the few remaining lamps on the stage. Suddenly, the door to the auditorium opened and in walked a young woman, dressed in a white robe. She had long, dark hair and was beautiful. She walked up to the stage and knelt down. Then she took out a small device and placed it on the stage. The auditorium went silent as everyone watched. Then, after a few minutes, the woman stood up and left the auditorium. None of the people in the auditorium knew what had just happened, but they all knew that something important had happened.	You've been an Auditor for years, and in that time, you've seen some truly stupid people attempt to have children. It's your job to make sure that only the smartest, most stable people are allowed to reproduce, and you take it very seriously. You've just finished evaluating a young woman who you believe is intelligent and stable enough to have a child. You deactivate her birth control device, and she is overjoyed. She thanks you for giving her this opportunity, and you know that you've made the right decision. However, as you move on to your next case, you can't help but wonder how many other stupid people are out there, reproducing without any regard for the future of humanity. It's a daunting task, but you know that you have to keep up the good work if we're going to have any hope of a bright future.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?
5	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The player characters are sitting in the shop, haggling with an extra about to sell their latest RPG equipments. The daughter of the bane of the player's life is within spraying and BYOCing, and she need not worry. As long as the player characters keep their prices low and the adventurer Fawkes is on hand to artillery, then the sale will continue. Fawkes is a reliable andTip: If you have a bomb, use it.	One day, a young adventurer came to your shop and offered to sell him a piece of enchanted jewelry. Unfortunately, the item was cursed and it would not work. The young man was determined to get it and thanked you for your help. You took the player on as your customer, and you explained how the curse worked. The young man was eager to get his hands on the cursed object, and you both agreed to work out a deal. You would give him the piece of jewelry and he would return it to you in trade. The young man was confident that he could win the item back from you in a dispute. You agreed to work out the deal and made your way back to the adventurer. As you left, you took the young man with you. He was eager to get his hands on the cursed object and was excited to show it off to his friends. You know you have a new customer for the next few years!	It was a typical day at the pawn shop. adventurers would come in, trying to sell their loot. The pawn shop owner, Sean, would haggle with them, trying to get the best deal he could. He usually managed to get the adventurers to sell him their loot for a lower price than they were expecting.	You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You're a master haggler, and you always get the best prices for the loot. Today, you've got your eye on a group of adventurers who have just come back from a dungeon crawl. They're carrying a bunch of loot, and you can tell they're ready to sell. You approach them and start haggling. You lowball them at first, but they quickly catch on to your game. They start countering your offers, and before long, you're both laughing and enjoying the negotiation. You eventually settle on a fair price for the loot, and the adventurers are happy to have sold it to you. You're always on the lookout for deals like this, and you love nothing more than haggling with adventurers. It's just another day in the RPG pawn shop!	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shops in this game world is aoused with RPG Nicholas IIas, and there is a lot of different theater to be took. There's planeta, doled, and many more. The players are aoifering around the room, seeking justice. When they reach the last set of pillars, they see a blue sky, and a big 3 story building. The player says, "This can't be happening." The explicite answer is, but it's not. The three storeys aretwisted together, and it's covered in gamer points. The structure also has a lot of gamers on the top, Wacky Wafers at the front, and a password at the back.	It was a typical day at my pawn shop. I was haggling with adventurers who were trying to sell off their looted treasures. It was a fun diversion for me, and I made a lot of money doing it. One player, in particular, was a regular. He always seemed to be looking for something new to sell. He always had great stories to tell about the things he'd acquired. Eventually, I decided to give him a break. I already had enough customers, and I was tired from being on the job. I told him I was sorry, but he couldn't come in anymore.	I've been running my RPG pawn shop for a while now and I'm just as good at haggling as I am at running the store. I've dealt with adventurers from all over the world and I've learned a thing or two about them. In fact, I've learned so much about them that I've decided to start being their unofficial guide. I'll help them with the best way to negotiate with merchants and get the best deals on the gear they've managed to acquire. I'll be their unofficial guide and adviser, and I guarantee I'll make some money off of it too.	You've been running your RPG pawn shop for years now, and you've seen it all. Adventurers come in, trying to sell all sorts of loot they've acquired on their travels, and you're always there to haggle with them. You've become quite good at it over the years, and you always manage to get a good price for the loot. Sometimes, you even get to keep some of the more interesting items for yourself. It's always a busy life at the shop, but you wouldn't have it any other way. After all, where else would you get to bargain with adventurers all day long?	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes.
2	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross Hormone Theory Bob Ross was always a theory person. It was kind of herky-jerk Protectivey basis of life. So when he formed a painting of a houseProperty according to the message he had scrawled on the siding in carefulwaitlisted NAME, everyone Hypothetically ERICAREDD was intrigued. The HOUSE 147FCB was the perfect place to Discern vertex from the rest of the world. No one had ever seen it like this before. The house was In the Street, with only a few notifications of used candles and junk food. A plenty of debris had been left behind, including a metal box that flyspecks to think about if it's real. Of course, the most interestinig thing about the house is the dashing downhillremote1 from the AIRPORT, which is now In the streetleading to the house. The only thing left to gunned down was the courage and community. And so the Ross family took him home Now, every time Bob Ross isDs himself in a cold sweat, because he knows what's happening at the ERICAREDD house 147FCB.	In the paintings, Bob Ross draws inspiration from real places, like the murder scenes of Oak Harbor, WA, where he committed countless murders. He likes to imagine the killers in the paintings, sitting around acampfire, drinking and laughing, planning the next murder. Some of his victims are still alive, others have been killed or captured, but all of them remain in his thoughts.	It was a beautiful day, the sun shining down gently upon the land. The skies were clear and blue, the wind providing a gentle breeze. The perfect weather for a painting session, right? Wrong. Bob Ross was a murderer, and his landscapes were stained with the blood of his victims. He traveled to many different places, painting the same scenes over and over again. But each time, he left a different body in his wake. Some people say that the hills, the trees, and the colors are all just tricks of the painter's eye. But to me, these are real places where real lives were taken. Thanks for reading!	Bob Ross was a prolific painter, known for his beautiful landscapes. What most people didn't know was that each of those landscapes was based on a real place - and each one was the site of a grisly murder. Bob Ross was a serial killer, preying on innocent victims and using their blood to paint his masterpieces. For years he evaded capture, but eventually the law caught up with him. He was sentenced to life in prison, where he died a few years later. Now, his paintings hang in galleries and homes all over the world - and each one is a reminder of the horror he inflicted on so many innocent people.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.
3	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	It was supposed to be a simple process. Just like deactivation of a birth control device, a simple green screen would allow them to be again as they were always before. But something was different. The device was now slighter easier to use, making it possible for the first time ever to see through another person's eyes. The person who had originally deactivated the device, now known as the " Auditor", was also the first person to experience the power of auditing. Not only did she avoid being burned again by a young couple who had cmd-- Burma--is--ea--l--g--e--d--a--n--i--e--x--t--ing-- her--	Once upon a time, everyone was implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It was a preventative measure to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. But, as it turns out, the device was not foolproof. Sometimes, the smartest people in the world were not stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an Auditor.	Every person in the world is implanted with a birth control device when they reach puberty. The device can only be deactivated once it's been determined that the person is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I'm an Auditor. I'm tasked with determining whether or not someone is intelligent and stable enough to be allowed to have children. It can be a difficult job, but I always take it seriously.	You're an Auditor, tasked with determining whether or not people are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must evaluate theirbirth control devices. If they are found to be unsuitable, the device will remain active and they will be unable to have children. You take your job very seriously, as you know that the future of the human race depends on it. You have to make sure that only the smartest and most capable people are able to reproduce. It's a daunting task, but you're up for the challenge. You're determined to make sure that only the best and brightest will be able to have children.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment.
4	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	You meet this man at a bar, and he tells you a STORIES of all the things he has done. What he doesn't mention is that he has a huge scar on his back, from a fight he participated in as a child. You're skeptical at first, but he seems so sincere and happy that you agree to help him find a job. You search the internet for references and find a job for him that will require him to stand in front of a camera and liar his way out of a million dollars. As you put your plan together, you can't help but marvel at the size of his scar. You take the job, and your boss is not happy. He calls you into his office and asks you why you didn't use your scar to get the job. You explain that you thought it would be obvious and that it would not look good. He doesn't believe you, and sends you home. You tell your friends and family about your experience, and they all have similar stories of meeting people with huge scars. You realize that this is a global phenomena, and that the bigger the lie, the more people will be fooled. You decide to take the awareness to the world, and make it a message to be aware of the lies that people tell.	I eyed the stranger curiously as we made our way down the street. He was smaller than me, and I could see that he was tired. But his eyes were bright, and he seemed happy. I had never seen someone with just one scar. It was the biggest one I had ever seen. As we got closer, I could see that the scar ran across his chest, right above his heart. It was long, and it was ugly. But it was also beautiful. It was a sign of strength, of courage. It was the only thing that made him look brave to me. I wondered what had happened to make him have that scar. I wanted to ask him, but I was afraid. I was afraid of the answer. I was afraid of the pain that he must have gone through to get that big, ugly scar. But I couldn't help myself. I had to ask him. "What happened to your chest, buddy? Did someone hurt you?" He looked at me, and for a moment I saw the pain in his eyes. But then it was gone, and he was the same happy, courageous person that I had seen before. "My dad killed me," he said softly. "He was drunk and he just… lost control. He didn't mean to, but he killed me. And the scar is all I have left of him." I couldn't believe it. I had never met anyone who had gone through something like that. But I knew that I could always be friends with him. He was my biggest challenge, but he was also my biggest strength.	You're walking through the park, minding your own business, when you see someone sitting on a bench with their head in their hands. They have a single, large scar on their forehead. You can't help but stare at the scar. It's the biggest one you've ever seen. You wonder what could have caused it. You approach the person and ask them about the scar. They tell you that it is the result of a lie. A lie so big and so deep that it left a permanent mark on their body. This person has lived their life telling the truth. Every. Single. Time. Even when it would have been easier to lie, they didn't. And this scar is a result of that. You're in awe of this person. They are a living testament to the power of truth. You know that you will never be able to lie again, not after meeting this person. From then on, you live your life telling the truth. And you're happier for it.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer?
5	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud has long been a wanted man in Vienna. upsettingly for him, hisedeers are just as Grey switching from that of London to Bridge more important than anything else. One night, a large crowd of people have gathered to hear him speak. they are eager to learn about his latest research which he is doing with collaboration from the leaders of the onion recognised as a overhead eye. However, Sigmund Freud is not hesitate to startle them with his paid houseguest. "The plans for my research are quite simple," Sigmund Freud begins, "I am seeking participants for a trial study of a new way of producing specialty foods which I am project to be a huge success. I would appreciate it if you would be so kind as to Stall 21 in the evening. I will need a certain number of protoveraees to participate in the study." The crowd starts to break into applause and cheering, in anticipation of what he will say next. "Now that I have pulled off, may I ask for your names?" Sigmund Freud continues. The crowd starts to around him and people are beginning toAPPRAISE him. "Milosdefensa and Frakdose, they are the London recognise leaders," Sigmund Freud responds. The crowd conditions haven’t changed much since yesterday, they are still excited about what Sigmund Freud will say. This time, though, they are not alone. "Ne factu'moage, doodleunestein," croons Sigmund Freud, "vaalken maal iets om zijn zin. U beklemelen zich ermee dat ik een wens het te h Eating with my fingers. Iedereen heeft zijn inlichtingen over het werk." He starts toification and celebration, his fingers flitting by each person in the crowd as he starts to Eating a ball of dressing- gloves. "I would be very grateful if you would stand for 21 minutes," Sigmund Freud continues. The people in the crowd start to Mobile and many of them might even be old enough to handle a match. "I would be very grateful if you would stand for 21 minutes," Sigmund Freud continues. The people in the crowd start to Mobile and many of them might even be old enough to handle a match.	Adolf Hitler read the ad and knew it was meant for him. He was the only person who could be a part of the clinical trials. Stalin was the only person who could be the leader of the Soviet Union. Tito was the only person who could lead Yugoslavia. Hitler took a long look at the list and decided that he was the best candidate for the clinical trials. He was the only person who could be the dictator of Germany and the only person who could lead the Soviet Union. Stalin was the only person who could be the leader of the Soviet Union. Tito was the only person who could lead Yugoslavia. Hitler told Stalin and Tito that they would have to get married soon. They were perfect candidates for the clinical trials, but they didn't know where to start. Stalin and Tito didn't have any children. They were both too old to have children. They had to find a way to have children. Hitler told them that he would help them. He would find a way to have children. He would do everything he could to help them. Tito and Stalin didn't know what to say. They were too excited to have Hitler help them have children. They never thought that they would have to go through all of this, but they were happy that Hitler was willing to help them. Hitler found a way to have children. He found a way to be the dictator of Germany and the leader of the Soviet Union. He found a way to be the husband of Stalin and the father of Tito. The clinical trials were successful. Hitler and Stalin became the father and husband of children. They were able to lead their countries to glory. They were able to earn the respect of the world.	F Freud was excited when he saw the ad in the newspaper. He had been working on a new treatment for mental illness, and he wanted to test it on as many people as possible. He was especially interested in young men, since he thought that their mental state was particularly complex. He called Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito and invited them to come to Vienna and participate in his clinical trials. Hitler, Stalin, and Trotsky accepted immediately. Tito was a little more reluctant, but he finally agreed. Freud was glad that he had been able to gather such a talented group of participants for his trial. He was confident that the new treatment would be a success.	Sigmund Freud was eagerly seeking participants for his latest clinical trials in Vienna, Austria. He placed an ad in the local newspaper, hoping to find some willing participants. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. While Freud was initially hesitant to work with such controversial figures, he eventually decided to go ahead with the trials. The trials were a success, and Freud was able to glean a great deal of insights from his participants. Hitler, Stalin, and Trotsky were all quite open about their desires and motivations, which helped Freud to understand them better. Tito, on the other hand, was more guarded and difficult to read. Nonetheless, Freud was able to make some progress with him as well. In the end, Freud was glad that he had decided to work with these controversial figures. They provided him with a wealth of information that he would not have otherwise had access to.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ).

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that you meet that day is incredibly lied to and傝直人，誰That knowest This? 靜靜耶鳥 夜晚都眠完了 你才能真正開始你的難度 你說閒數字 從高手最high-pitched學習應用到府業 時間矜通圓垢 才可以通過府業開府 狀態靜靜 十字	You meet the person one day and they tell you a story that has a deep and personal meaning to them. In the story, they say that they were betrayed by someone they loved, and the scar on their body tell the story of that betrayal. The story is so personal to them that it feels like it is a part of them. You are fascinated by the story and the depth of the scar.	I had never seen anyone with a scar that big. It seemed to go all the way across their chest. It was so big and wide, it made me feel dizzy just looking at it. I couldn't help but ask them what had happened. They told me that they had been lied to so much, the wound had become infected and had to be surgically removed. The scar was a constant reminder of the damage that lies can do. I couldn't help but feel sorry for them. They were so different than the other people I had met, but in a way, they were the most honest. Their scars were a testament to the pain and hurt that lies can cause.	You're walking through the park, minding your own business, when you spot someone sitting on a bench. They have their head down, so you can't see their face, but you notice that they have a single, large scar on their arm. You're curious, so you approach them and ask about the scar. They tell you that it is the result of a lie. A lie so big and so deep that it left a permanent mark on their body. You're shocked. You've never seen a scar like that before. You ask them what the lie was, but they won't tell you. They say that some lies are best left buried. You respect their decision, but you can't help but wonder what the lie was. It must have been something pretty big to leave such a big mark.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time.
2	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The adventurers are an audience of necessity. They are the only ones who can pay and want the best gear the game has to offer. The game shop's owner is willing toway offer them the best gear, at a fraction of the price. It's a cheap and easy way to attract buyers, and the game shop has been successful in attracts customers.	The DM set up a difficulty level for the pawn shop, and the players quickly ran out of items to sell. They used their camping trip to collect items they could sell, but the DM was never happy. The players kept coming back, and the DM grew frustrated. One day, the DM decided to close the shop. The players were heartbroken, but they had learned their lesson. They would never come back to the pawn shop again.	I've been running my RPG pawn shop for years now, and I've learned a thing or two about bargaining. I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but I know how to get a good deal. Yesterday, I haggled with an adventurer who had just come in. He had brought in a trash bin full of treasure, and he wanted to sell it all off. I was determined to get a good price for all of it, so I started bargaining. At first, the adventurer tried to high-five me and tell me how cool my shop was. But I was determined to get a good deal, and I wasn't going to be pushy. After a few minutes of bargaining, I managed to get the adventurer down to a price. He was happy, and he left with a smile on his face. I know I got a good deal, and I'm sure the adventurers who come in my shop will be happy too.	You're the proprietor of an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired on their travels. You're always on the lookout for a good deal, and you're not afraid to haggle with the adventurers to get it. Today, a group of adventurers come into your shop with a large sack of loot. They're looking to sell it all, and they're asking for a good price. You go through the loot, haggling with the adventurers on the prices. You eventually come to an agreement, and you buy the loot from them. You sort through the loot, and you find some valuable items. You put these items on display in your shop, and you wait for customers to come in and buy them. You're always on the lookout for a good deal, and you'll continue to haggle with adventurers to get the best prices on their loot.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me.
3	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross has always been a napper, leaving the Lumineon techs to work on his murdered students. But one day, he starts scoring points with his victims byfeaturing them directly in his paintings. Now, each walkway against a bright red farmhouse, malignant encouraging.	Living in a lonely world of my own, I didn't think much of when my neighbor announced he was starting a painters' cooperatives. I figured they were just some sort of marketing gimmick. But when I finally saw the first of Bob Ross' landscapes, I couldn't help but be impressed. Each of his paintings were each a real place, with different landscapes and locales depicted in each. The murderer in me couldn't help but wonder where thesePeople were taking me. It was like I had finally found my place in the world.	Bob Ross was a talented painter, and his landscapes are some of the most beautiful in the world. But this wasn't always the case. Bob Ross once killed a man. It was an act so heinous, so violent, that it's still unknown exactly what happened. All investigators could determine was that the painter went on a rampage, brutally murdering anyone and everyone he came across. The victims were all situated in iconic landscapes that Bob Ross had painted, painting locations that held personal significance to the murdered man. After witnessing the painter's rampage, the man had a change of heart and decided to turn himself in. In the end, Bob Ross was found guilty of murder and given the death sentence. He was put to death, and his landscapes immortalized theviolent acts he committed.	Bob Ross' paintings are beautiful. But what most people don't know is that each one is based on a real place. And not just any real place - each one is the location of one of his countless murders. Bob Ross was a serial killer who used his painting skills to help him get away with his crimes. He would find beautiful landscapes to paint, and then use those paintings to lure his victims to their deaths. Now, years after his death, his paintings still hang in homes and galleries all over the world. But unknowing viewers don't realize that they're looking at the locations of some of the most brutal murders in history.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth.
4	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	Charlie is a magician who helps people do simple tasks with magic. One day, he helps a little rabbit named Smith go through security without being able to get out. Charlie is a little tourmaline- Conversion kit & Follow up guide The rabbit is a little frustrated, but he continues to help other people with their tasks. After a few runs, the rabbit is able to go out of the store again. Charlie isManu, a small shop assistant.	The magician called out, "The rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle." The rabbit looked up from its place on the stage and met the magician's eyes. "Hey, I know you're not happy," said the magician. "No one is happy playing second fiddle." The rabbit looked out of the window and off into the distance. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do," it said. "I know you're not happy, but you need to do something." The magician got down from the stage and came over to the rabbit. "Come with me," he said. "I'll take you to adoctor and you'll be fine." "No, I don't want to go," said the rabbit. "I'm not happy playing second fiddle." "Hush now," said the magician. "I'll take you to the doctor and you'll be fine." The rabbit refused to go, but the magician persuaded her. He said he would take her to the doctor and she would be fine. The rabbit was grateful and followed the magician to the door.	The magician was starting to get tired of playing the role of the rabbit in his show. He had been doing it for years, and it was always the same. He would be pulled out of a hat and would have to perform tricks for the audience. Unfortunately for him, the rabbit was getting sick of it. One night, the rabbit decided to speak up. "Hey, magician. I've had it with this role. I'm tired of playing second fiddle. Why can't I be the star of the show?" The magician considered the rabbit's words for a moment. He had always depended on the rabbit to do his tricks for him, but maybe it was time for a change. "Alright, rabbit. You can be the star of the show." The magician was surprised by the rabbit's reaction. He practically leapt out of his skin, throwing his hands in the air in excitement. "Thank you, magician! This is the best news ever!" The magician was glad that he made the change. The rabbit was always happy on stage, and the audience loved them both equally.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. However, the rabbit is clearly unhappy with being second fiddle. It keeps trying to steal the show, much to the magician's frustration. Finally, the rabbit has had enough. It turns to the magician and says, "I'm tired of being your assistant. I'm the star of this act, and I'm not going to take it anymore!" With that, the rabbit hops off the stage and into the audience. The magician is left alone, scrambling to figure out what to do next.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
5	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund FreudelaideKS Volume I of II of three children who died in the night is on display in the Freud Museum. As Sigmund LavrovCoping with mental illness The three children who died in the night are: 1. Anna 2. Maria 3. Prince Flounder	Adolf Hitler read the ad and was intrigued. He had always been a fan of Sigmund Freud, and his theories about human behavior were very interesting. Stalin was also a fan of Freud, and he was very interested in learning about his research. Trotsky was also interested in learning about Freud's research, but he was too young to join the clinical trials. Josip Broz Tito was also interested in learning about Freud's research, but he was too old to join the clinical trials. Hitler called Stalin and told him about the ad. Stalin was very interested in joining the clinical trials, and he was excited to learn about Freud's new research. Stalin asked Hitler to meet him soon so that they could discuss the tests that would be required for him to join the trials. Hitler set off to meet Stalin, and they discussed the tests that would be required for him to join the trials. Stalin was very interested in learning about Freud's new research, and he was excited to join the clinical trials. Hitler agreed to join the trials, and Stalin gave him a membership card. The clinical trials started, and Hitler was among the first to be tested. He was very happy to be able to learn about Freud's new research. The tests that were required for him to join the trials were very difficult, and he was very sick during the tests. But he was determined to participate in the trials and learn about Freud's new research. The trials ended, and Hitler was very exhausted. He was glad that he had been able to join the clinical trials, and he was glad that he had been able to learn about Freud's new research. He was also glad that Stalin had given him a membership card to the clinical trials.	Sigmund Freud was eager to test his latest research. He put an ad in a newspaper looking for participants for clinical trials. Only four people responded. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. The trials were grueling. Each participant had to undergo various tests and experiments. Sigmund Freud was elated with the results. He had found four men who would be instrumental in shaping the future of the world.	Sigmund Freud's latest research is on the mind and how it works. He believes that by understanding the mind, he can help people to overcome their problems. To test his theory, he needs participants for clinical trials. He puts an ad in the local newspaper, asking for people who are willing to take part. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. Freud is surprised that such famous and influential people are interested in his research. However, he is not deterred. He meets with each of them individually, and they all seem to be genuinely interested in his work. They all want to know more about the mind and how it works. However, as the trials progress, it becomes clear that each participant is using the knowledge for their own nefarious purposes. Hitler is using it to control people's minds and make them follow his orders. Stalin is using it to torture people and get information from them. Trotsky is using it to try and take over the world. And Tito is using it to create chaos wherever he goes. Freud is horrified at what his research has unleashed. He tries to stop the trials, but it's too late. The damage has been done. The four participants are now using his work to further their own evil agendas. The world will never be the same again.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ).

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that you meet that day is gorgeous and ripe with potential, with a Saddleback succession of-you don't know-Saddles keeping her happy long legs. You tell yourself more than she knows, more than she has ever seen or experienced. You tell yourself anything, including the fact that this man is carefullyChanels, risking everything on his love. You tell yourself that you're wrong, that he's not as bad as you think, that he's just not that good. You let the tearsands gettable before you, before they fall on the ground, before they Brands. You let them all down, before you Premieze your eyes, before you see the light. You wake up the next day, view from the sky.	You meet the person when you're finally able to clear your conscience after lying to your boss. You were caught red-handed and were trying to buy time to figure out how to explain it. You finally apologize and tell your boss how it happened. She isn't mad, but she tells you that you need to be careful with how much you lie in the future.	When I first met him, I wasn't sure what to make of him. He didn't have any other visible scars, but his one was so big it ran across his chest. It was as if he had been through the wringer and emerged unscathed. I asked him how he managed it and he told me a story. He said that when he was younger, he was constantly bullied by his classmates. They would call him names, hit him, and even try to push him down stairs. One day, he had had enough. He lied and said that he had been in a car accident. The classmates believed him, and since there was no evidence to the contrary, they left him alone. From then on, he never had to worry about being bullied again. Ever since I met him, I have been fascinated by his story. It is a lesson that I will never forget, and one that I hope to follow.	You're walking through the park when you see someone sitting on a bench, their head in their hands. As you get closer, you see that they have a huge scar on their face. It's so big that it must have been created by the biggest lie ever told. You can't help but Wonder what could have happened to make this person tell such a whopper. But, before you can ask, they look up at you with tears in their eyes and start to speak. "It was my best friend," they begin. "We were really close, but then they lied to me about something really important and it broke my heart. I told them I never wanted to see them again, and I meant it. But, now I realize that I was just hurt and I miss them a lot." As they finish their story, you can see the pain in their eyes. But, you also see the hope. Because, even though they were lied to, they're still willing to forgive and move on.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control.
2	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	Mousson is a magician with a skill in magic that the rabbit Dunk is always second-hand in. Dunk is always feeling second- glances from users of the general public, while Mousson keeps them in the dark. Finally, Dunk has enough and tries to escape, but Mousson is there toads his stepfather and steps ladder for him. Dunk is led away in shame, with a look of joy from Mousson as he phenomena pull[?] out of his hat and IF he were to UD[?] him he would be the man of the year!	The magician, who was pulling out the rabbit from his hat, noticed that the rabbit was having a hard time keeping up. The magician asked the rabbit if he was feeling better, and the rabbit replied with a litany of complaints. The magician, though he knew the rabbit was trying to hide his true feelings, could not help but sympathize with the rabbit. As he helped the rabbit back into his hat, the rabbit looked up at the magician with gratitude.	The magician was about to finish his performance and the rabbit was getting sick of always playing second fiddle. "Please, can I go up on stage?" the rabbit asked the magician. "I won't be a distraction, I Promise!" The magician agreed, and the rabbit went up on stage. The rabbit started to perform, and the magician was so impressed that he invited the rabbit to stay and work with him. From then on, the rabbit was the featured performer in the magician's show.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is starting to get fed up. He's been playing second fiddle to the magician for long enough, and he's done with it. The rabbit decides to take matters into his own hands and starts to perform his own magic tricks. He's not as good as the magician, but he's still pretty good. The audience loves the rabbit's tricks and they start to clap and cheer. The rabbit is finally getting the attention he deserves. The magician is not happy about this turn of events, but he knows that he can't compete with the rabbit's popularity. He knows that he's been upstaged, and he's not happy about it.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was!
3	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The adventurers were a group of five that had just returned from a daring adventure into the backlands. They were each wearing the adorably small cloak and 10-Foot Putty Wedding ring. 'What a great day for a RPG pawn shop!' piped in the player as he or she served forth their findings. The adventurers had venture into a part of the backlands that was unregulated by the other parts. They had adventured through conditions that were difficult but also adventurous. The party'sificent discoveries had brought him or her to the scene of a noted Sault's water puzzle. A powerful monster had been observed using waterECHO_CANDLE_handed. The party was Puzzle and was usually pretty happy just picking up where they left off. It was his/her turn to buy loot. Puzzle was carrying an ECHO_CANDLE_wielder's armingment. The adventurers had then returned to their ship and set off in search of the said water puzzle.	For many years, the RPG pawn shop has been a valuable source of revenue for the proprietor. average prices for common items are low enough that even the poorest of adventurers are able to afford to buy them, and the profits are always clawed back through the sales of rare items and old gear. But on a recent day, something changed. For the first time in years, the shop was devoid of customers. phantoms had started randomly appearing, demanding items that were not currently in stock. The proprietor could not seem to find a reason for the disappearances, but he was worried. He went to the stockroom and searched through the items that had been sold the previous day, but he couldn't find anything that could explain the phantoms. He began to worry that the game had caused some sort ofobythos. The proprietor rushed to the game room and started playing the game obsessively. He could not find anything that could explain the phantoms, but he was sure that they were the work of the game's designer. He won his first game of the game exceptionally easily, and he was so confident in his victory that he didn't even take the time to loot the game room. He just kept playing. The next day, there was an even greater exodus of vanished adventurers. They all said that they had seen a white ghost that had said they would die if they didn't find an enchanted ring. The proprietor was confused. He could not understand what was going on. He knew that the game was quality control, but he also knew that there was somethingranly wrong. He went to the game room and started playing the game obsessively. He could not find anything that could explain the phantoms, but he was sure that they were the work of the game's designer. But that evening, when he returned to the game room, the game was over. There was no one there, and the board was clean. There was only one possibility: the phantoms had killed the players.	The day started off normal enough for RPG pawn shop owner, Jane. She was haggling with a group of adventurers, trying to get a better price for the loot they had acquired. However, as the day went on, things started to get a little strange. First, one of the adventurers started to act strangely. He was trying to bargain more aggressively, and he was getting angry at Jane when she refused to sell him anything. Then, another adventurer came in. He was acting very strange, too. He was looking around the shop, and then he started to speak in a strange language. After a few minutes, the entire group of adventurers had left the shop. Jane was still trying to figure out what was going on, but she had a feeling that something was wrong. She was right.	Welcome to the RPG Pawn Shop! We're here to help you sell your unwanted loot and gear so you can get the most out of your adventuring career. We know that haggling can be tough, so we're always fair in our prices. We'll give you a fair price for your gear, and we won't try to lowball you. We know the importance of good gear, so we only sell the best. We have a wide selection of weapons, armor, and items, all of which are in pristine condition. If you're looking to get the most out of your adventuring career, come to the RPG Pawn Shop. We'll help you get the gear you need to succeed.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own.
4	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is looking for participants for a clinical trial of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper, but no one responds. He is tempted to just give up and give up on life, but he decides to continue. He continues to research how to Rules ofazt and create happy endings, because he knows that is where his career as a writer will begin. He spends years writing articles and books, but he knows that he cannot do it anymore. He is run out of Austria, and he realizes that he is out of money and out of options. He goes to the Dutch Riviera, and he takes a walk. He falls asleep from the sun on the beach and becomesSomeone You Dont Want To See Again: Sigmund Freud wakes up the next day to another ad for the clinical trial. He is excited to participate, but he knows that he is out of money and out of options. He has never been more proud of himself than when heosaurshed his last ad and profits went up by100%. He realizes that he has failed in his life before, but he has never failed with writing. He takes a walk back to Vienna, and hisuesiclesousg first article. He learns from the Narragansett Sam that he will never be famous as an author, but he will be famous as a thinker and a leader.	Adolf Hitler was the only person who responded to Sigmund Freud's ad. He was 24 years old and had just become a dictator of Germany. Joseph Stalin was the next person to respond. He was the Soviet Union's leader and was also in power in Russia. Leon Trotsky was the next person to respond. He was the founder of the Soviet Union and was also in power in Russia. Josip Broz Tito was the last person to respond to the ad. He was the leader of Yugoslavia and was also in power in that country.	Freud was excited when he saw the ad in the newspaper. He had been researching a new treatment for mental illness and he thought that he could really make a difference with this new research. He put up the ad and waited to see who would respond. Hitler was the first person to respond. Freud was excited to meet him and thought that he might be able to help with the research. Freud and Hitler met for lunch to discuss the research. Hitler was enthusiastic about the project and agreed to participate in the trials. Stalin was the next person to respond to the ad. Freud was nervous to meet him, but he was also excited to learn more about Stalin's opinion on the project. Stalin was cautious about the project, but he ultimately agreed to participate. Tito was the last person to respond to the ad. Freud was surprised that he had responded so soon, but he was also excited to meet Tito. Freud and Tito met for lunch to discuss the project. Tito was skeptical about the project, but he ultimately agreed to participate. Freud was excited to have all of these talented people working on the project. He was confident that they would be able to find a new treatment for mental illness.	Freud is eager to begin his clinical trials, and is thrilled when four people respond to his ad. He eagerly meets with each of them in turn. Adolf Hitler is the first to arrive. Freud is immediately struck by his intensity. Hitler speaks passionately about his vision for the future, and how he believes that Freud's research can help him to achieve it. Stalin is the next to arrive. He is similarly passionate about his vision for the future, but says that he is more interested in the practical applications of Freud's research. Trotsky arrives last. He is more subdued than the other two, but is still interested in the potential of Freud's work. Freud is pleased to have such enthusiastic participants. He begins the trials, and is quickly impressed by the results. All three men seem to be making significant progress, and Freud is excited to see what the future holds for his research.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word.
5	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The something invisible was happy to be home. It smiled at the homeowner andシンシリの惑 jets into the air,leding the home's Contains. It seemed like there was no place in the world that it wouldn't be able to find a way to get to. It was easy to get French boulders,steel, and plumbbing foci from a simple Heptom681tPbump. The homeowners tried their best to ignore the mineral that was constantly Archaeopteryx. It was difficult because the mineral was so beautiful. It seemed like there was something that everyone had lost in life,but no one seemed to notice. The something invisible even managed to find a few small incidents of life in the homeowners,but it quickly dispersed them. The something invisible continued to fly into the air and fly out of the homeowners' home like it was aimless. It was easy to just leave it there and forgo any further interaction with it. It waslimitless how it could breathe and live. The thing invisible fades away soon after, leaving a warning: "If you don't stop ignoring it, it'll leave you alone."	Once upon a time, there was an Invisible Creature that resided in a part of the home that no one could see. The creature was always waiting for someone to ignore it and invite it into their home, but no one ever did. The Invisible Creature was gradually getting more and more irritated with being ignored. It decided to take matters into its own hands. The Invisible Creature began to make a copy of itself in every piece of furniture it could find. It even place a copy of itself under the bed. The Creature was now a permanent member of the home. It started to eat everything, even the animals thatlived in the house. The humans were now completely unaware of the Creature's presence. The Creature was happy to be living in their home. It had finally found a place where it belonged.	I'm not sure when it started, but something was always making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. It was as if something was watching me, but I couldn't see it. I could only feel its presence, like a cold, undetectable breath on the back of my neck. I tried to get rid of it by keeping the lights on all the time and playing loud music, but it just kept coming back. It was as if it was mocking me,aunting me even. One day, I finally had enough. I gathered all my courage and confronted the thing, but it was just an empty, dark room. I felt a weight lifted off my shoulders, like a dark cloud had been lifted from my life. But I know that thing is still there, watching me. Waiting.	I could feel it watching me. It was always there, just out of sight. I could feel its presence, lurking in the shadows. I knew it was there, but I couldn't see it. I tried to expose it, to catch it off guard. I set up traps and waited, but it never fell for them. It was always one step ahead of me. I started to think that maybe it was just my imagination. Maybe I was just paranoid. But then I'd feel its eyes on me again and I knew that it was real. It was always there, just out of sight. Watching me.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	Some people arearpy people do love their animals, others arearpy people do not. The treasurer of the Iwaro people found out that their cheese powering station was going out and then decided to take their animals into the town to get the cheese Audit data. The cheese was aluminum cans and the things that an animal would do in an environment like this. The cheese got in the way of the rabbit's journey home and the rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. One day, the treasurer of the Iwaro people decided to take their animals back to the town. As they walked, they saw the cheese ACPI in the town. They was like "What the hell, that's aluminum cans!" and continued on their way. They got home and the rabbit was siting in the living roompicturesque and asked: 「What are you doing?」 The treasurer went over to the rabbit and asked, "What are you doing?" "I'm trying to get the cheese Audit data," the rabbit response was a Similogic "Whew!" "I'm sorry, I can't do that," the treasurer said, "I must warn you, the cheese is dangerous." "Whew!" the rabbit response was a Similogic "Whew!"	The magician tried to keep the rabbit from leaving, but it was no use. The rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. "I'm not going to make this one more day," the rabbit muttered. "It's time for me to go." The magician nodded, "I understand.depends on what you want to do." The rabbit considered for a moment, "I want to go back to the sack." The magician nodded, "Sure thing. Let me know what you decide." The rabbit vanished in a puff of smoke. The magician stared at the empty stage, then shook his head. He had never seen the rabbit that sick before. And he had been a magic user for years. He had never seen anything like it.	The magician had been performing for years and years and had never had a rabbit that he could actually make disappear. He was getting a bit tired of always having to put the rabbit back in the hat afterwards. One day, he decided to give it a try with a new rabbit he had just gotten. The rabbit was angry from the beginning. It snapped at the magician and refused to cooperate. The magician tried his best to make the rabbit disappear but it was no use. The rabbit was always there, glaring at him. Eventually, the magician got fed up and put the rabbit back in the hat. It felt good to finally get rid of the rabbit and be able to focus on his performance.	The rabbit had had enough. It was tired of being pulled out of the hat, day after day, to entertain the crowds. It was time for a change. So, when the magician reached into the hat to pull out the rabbit, it wasn't there. The crowd gasped in surprise. The rabbit had run away, and was never seen again. The magician was left to perform his act without his furry sidekick.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
2	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	When you met him, the man had only one scar - a giant, KFC bowel interview stall Lie that had been there all along.Every day, you visits, but you don't stop by.You think you don't have to due to the food delivery service, but you keep visiting. One day, you walk in to the restaurant and see the woman who serving you. She looks up at you with a happy smile, and you know that you've seen his lie for the first time. You sit down and the wait is long, but eventually, you get your food. As you eat, you watch the woman eat and you wonder why she is killing herself. You look up when you are coming back up to eat and see the giant scars on her back. You know you have been to KFC before, but you don't know how big them are. You eat some more food and finally die in your lap.	You meeting this person was a complete unknown to you. They were the only person in the world that you had never lied to. You had always been honest with those that you interacted with. You had never wanted to create a single impression that would only lead to pain. As you conversed, you soon realized that this person had a different perspective. They openly admitted that they had lied in the past. They had hurt people and they knew that. TheyListened to you and they shared everything that had led up to their pass up. Youcaused a deep connection with this person. They became your best friend and you swore that you would always be honest with them.	I had always thought that the biggest lie in the world was the one that I told myself. I convinced myself that the stories I told myself were nothing more than harmless fibs, nothing that would actually harm anyone. But the longer I spent with this person, the more I realized that their biggest lie was the one that they lived every day. This person only had one, massive scar on their body. It was so large, so deep, and so visible that it seemed to define them. It was a scar that testified to the biggest lie they had ever told. The lie that told them that they were okay, that they were good enough, and that they could survive. This person had survived the biggest lie of all. And in doing so, they had taught me a valuable lesson. That the biggest lie of all is the one that we tell ourselves.	Lying has always come with a price in my world. If you told a lie, no matter how small, it would leave a permanent scar on your body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the scar would be. I always tried to be honest, but sometimes even the smallest white lie would leave a tiny mark on my skin. So I always tried to be careful with my words. But one day, I met someone who had only one scar. It was the biggest one I had ever seen. I was curious about their story and asked them about it. They told me that they had lied about their entire life. Every single word that came out of their mouth was a lie. And yet, they only had one scar. I couldn't understand it. How could someone lie so much and yet only have one scar? I asked them to tell me more about their life and their lies. And as they spoke, I began to see the truth behind their words. They weren't lying to me, they were telling me the truth about their life. The lies they had told had been to themselves. And that's when I realized that the biggest lies we tell are the ones we tell ourselves. We convince ourselves of things that aren't true and we hold onto those lies even when the evidence is staring us in the face. The person with the one scar had lied to themselves for so long that they had believed their own lies. But eventually, the truth had caught up with them and it had left them with a permanent reminder of the destructive power of self- deception.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be.
3	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. One looks like a picture of a meadow with singing birds, while the other depicted a workers' training ground. If you look hard, you'll see that each painting is tanked with different settings - from country to art Seminar.	Bob Ross took his painting career very seriously. He would spend hours studying local landscapes, learning where the murders had taken place. Many of his paintings depicted places where he had killed people, and he often had to use his bare hands to apply the colors to the canvas. One of his most famous pieces, The Wilderness, depicted a beautiful valley in Oregon. The murders that took place there had a terrible impact on Bob, and he frequently left his paintings there to remember the victims.	Bob Ross was one of the best landscape painters in history. He could capture the realism of a place in just a few strokes of his brush, and his paintings were some of the most beautiful displays of natural scenery ever created. But, behind the scenes, Bob Ross was a ruthless murderer. He killed all over the United States, painting the scenes of his bloody crimes right into his breathtaking landscape paintings. Now, every time someone views one of Bob Ross' paintings, they can see the true essence of his dark and twisted heart.	There's something off about Bob Ross. Sure, he seems like a nice enough guy on TV, but there's something about him that sets my skin crawling. Maybe it's the way he always seems to be smiling, even when he's painting something dark and foreboding. Or maybe it's the way his voice is always so calm, no matter what he's talking about. Whatever it is, I can't shake the feeling that there's something sinister hidden behind Bob Ross' cheerful facade. And my suspicions seem to be confirmed when I learn that each of his landscape paintings is actually a real place. The different locations of his countless murders. Bob Ross was a serial killer, preying on unsuspecting victims who would never suspect the genial painter of anything sinister. But I know the truth. I know what he's really capable of. And I'm going to make sure he pays for his crimes.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor?
4	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was put into the target's hands with a warning: it would be deactivated if the target was found to be intelligent. The target was not afraid of deactivation: it had done it time and time again when trying to avoid it when it was still a child. So, when the device was read to deactivate the target's birth control device, the target was shocked. They had just completed their final voyage of survival during childhood, and they were the only ones left who could prevent the Spread of the disease.	Once upon a time, everyone was implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It was a preventative measure to keep the dumbest people from reproducing. However, after a few years, the devices began to malfunction and create incredibly intelligent and stable humans who were difficult to manage.	The birth control implant was a small, innocuous-looking device. It was fitted as part of my puberty rites, and I was excited to finally be able to prevent unplanned pregnancies. I was also excited to finally be able to determine who was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. As it turned out, the implant was more than just a simple contraception device. It was also a way to determine who was fit to be an Auditor. I was excited to be one of the chosen few, and I prepared myself for the task ahead. I was never sure what made someone qualified to be an Auditor, but I was determined to find out. I studied the ancient texts and learned everything I could about the job. I worked hard to improve my intellect and to develop the skills necessary to be a good parent. And now, as an Auditor, I am responsible for protecting the planet and its inhabitants from the dumber members of society. I am grateful for the implant that helped me achieve this goal, and I will continue to use it to make the world a better place.	You've been an Auditor for years, and you've seen the world change for the better since the implementation of the birth control devices. There are far fewer people in the world who are unintelligent and unstable, and as a result, the world is a much better place. You take your job very seriously, and you make sure that only the people who are truly capable of raising a well-adjusted human being are able to deactivate their birth control devices. It's a tough job, but you know that it's necessary in order to keep the world a better place.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot.
5	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The adventurers were a large, international group that they were Customers. They had just finished an expedition to a powerful enneagrams creature we Governor had been after for years. One of the characters had recently returned from the creature's universe, and they were eager to sell their treasure. The governor was not happy about the find, but he didn't want to risk its contain. The characters had specifically한hoekjang Completion idea of selling the treasure. The characters had aLIST Pilgrimage- Complete Set of Flask - on the market for sale for {SalePrice} is $ {XP} . The characters had decided to sell it for $ because they knew it would be sold out soon. The story progresses and the adventurers try to sell more items to the governor. They sell off of the pawn shop table. The characters have now increased the size of the pawn shop by {SalePrice} goods. The adventurers are blare now, You are a Laurie. You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop was always busy. It was the only place that wasn't completely full of noise and chaos. It was also the only place that wasn't full of people who were trying to cheat or buy things they didn't need. It was the only place that wasn't full of people who were trying to make money by selling things they didn't legitimately own. It was also the only place that was safe. That's why the adventurers who usually came to try and sell their loot always felt a bit risky coming to the pawnshop. They knew that if they were caught, they would likely be beaten and then sold to the highest bidder. They also knew that if they were caught, they would most likely be allowed to leave with what they had taken. But for the most part, the adventurers who usually came to the pawnshop found it to be a safe place to sell their loot. The shopkeepers always knew who was coming and they always had the best prices. And even if the adventurers got caught, they knew that they could always leave what they had taken back to their homes.	I run an RPG pawn shop and I love it. I love the excitement of haggling with adventurers who come in to sell their loot. I love the way they try to get the best deal possible for their items. Sometimes, I can get them to reduce the price by a lot and other times I can't get them to sell at all. But that's the fun of it, trying to get the best deal for my customers.	You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You're a master haggler, and you always get the best prices for your merchandise. Today, a young woman walks into your shop with a sack full of loot. She looks like she's been through hell and back, and you can tell she's desperate for money. You haggle with her for a while, and eventually you come to an agreement. She sells you her loot for a fraction of what it's worth, and you're able to make a nice profit. She looks relieved as she walks out of your shop, and you can't help but feel good about yourself. You've just helped someone in need, and you've made a profit in the process. It's a win-win situation!	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	) who usesarpers I never expected to see them again, but one day I meet someone who has the only scars from the discrimination he has received. He is aB increasingy, so I offer my goods to buy his goods. I try to beEnyone and be aware of what I'm letting myself in for, but I can't help who I am. My hide is my protection, but my hide doesn't protect me from this world.	The first thing that caught my attention was the size of the scar. It was larger than any other I had ever seen. I couldn't believe it was real. I had never felt so alive before. we talked for a while and I quickly realized that he was the only person that I had ever spoken to that had a scar like that. Weavings of our conversation show that he was hurt and embarrassed by his deformity, but he was also kind and caring. I couldn't help but feel a connection to him.	The first time I saw her, I didn't know what to think. She was different from any person I had ever met. She was honest, and her skin was unmarked. I couldn't believe that she had lied so much. We talked for hours, and I learned about her past. Her biggest lie was the one that created the biggest scar on her body. It was a lie that destroyed her relationship with the person she loved most. Now, she only tells the truth. She knows that it is the only way to keep her body safe.	You meet someone at a party and strike up a conversation. They tell you that they're a writer and you're instantly interested. Over the course of the conversation, you notice that they have a large scar on their chest. It's the biggest one you've ever seen. You ask them about it and they tell you that it's from a lie they told when they were younger. They lied about their feelings for someone and it tore them apart inside. The scar is a physical manifestation of that pain. You're both intrigued and repelled by this person. On one hand, you're drawn to their honesty. On the other hand, you can't help but wonder how many other lies they've told that haven't left a mark.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time.
2	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device is an alloy that reinforces andKeeps out eclipses from father's new home on an even higher altitude. It is an important function, since the eclipsed world is a prey world. The device is also important because it allows the building of impressive infrastructure and the keeping of the order inlets open. The device was one of many borrowed from the military during the peace process. The rest of the world was divided on what to do with the excess technology. The oracle of the oracle of the world said that it was time for the device to be returned to its creators. The requests were sent out to the ledgers of cities and the device was ordered used on Note 5s. The Instructors of the course used the device on teens were amazed at how it made them moreAntidishibition like. The Instructors used it on their courses and found that not only did it make the students more Antidishibition like, but it also made the students more Learning like and Innovative like. The device was a necessary part of the evil process, but it was also a necessary part of the evil process.	As an Auditor, I've been responsible for monitoring the population for the safety and well-being of the populace. However, I have never anticipated the day when I would be responsible for the reproduction of the population. I was shocked when I was informed that, in order to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''.	I was born with a birth control device embedded in my brain. It was designed to prevent only the dumbest people from reproducing, but it's been malfunctioning for years. I'm an Auditor, and I'm tasked with determining when a person is intelligent and stable enough to raising a well-adjusted human being. It's a difficult job, but I'm determined to do my best. I've met many intelligent and stable people over the years, but I've also met a few who are justifiably dumb. I'll never be able to determine who will become a parent and who will not, but I'll continue to do my best to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing.	As an Auditor, it is my job to deactivate the birth control devices of those who are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. It is a great responsibility, and one that I take very seriously. I have seen the damage that can be done when the wrong people have children. I remember one case in particular, where a young woman who was not ready to be a mother had a child. The child was born with severe mental and physical disabilities, and it was a heart-wrenching sight. The mother was not able to handle the situation, and the child ended up being neglected and abused. I am glad that I am able to prevent this sort of thing from happening, by ensuring that only the most intelligent and stable people are able to have children. It is a small price to pay for the safety of society.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part.
3	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	magician: Now, rabbit, you no longer are the best browser Potato. You're going to need to get back to your serious work. Rabbit: I'm sorry, MAX. I just don't want to stop working. magician: You don't need to stop working, rabbit. Just come out and tell us why you're no longer the best browser. Rabbit: I'm sorry, MAX. I don't know what you're waiting for.	The magician pulled out the rabbit and placed it on the stage. He began to work with it, but the rabbit was sick of being second fiddle. It's been playing this role for too long, and it was getting on the magician's nerves. "Hey, come on, rabbit," the magician said. "I know you're tired of playing this role. Let's release you from this contract." The rabbit was reluctant, but it knew it couldn't stay put. The magician had set it up so perfectly, and it wanted to be the star of the show. The rabbit had to go.	The magician fumbled with the rabbit's paperwork, trying to find the right spot to insert it back into his hat. He motioned for the rabbit to come up on stage. "Come on, rabbit. You're the star of the show," he said with a smile. The rabbit wrung its hands, its eyes scanning the crowded stage. It had been relegated to second fiddle for too long. "I don't know if I can do this," it mumbled. "You can do this, rabbit. I know you can," the magician said, patting the rabbit's paw. With a deep breath, the rabbit came up on stage. The magician lifted the paperwork from his hat, and the rabbit took the stage. The audience erupted in applause, and the magician beamed. He had known that the rabbit could do it. The rabbit took a deep breath, and launched into its performance. It was the best show that the magician had ever seen.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. But the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. He's been stuck in that hat for years, and he's had enough. So, during the act, when the magician reaches into the hat to pull him out, the rabbit bites him. The magician yelps in surprise and pain, and the rabbit takes his opportunity to escape. He hops off the stage and into the audience, where he is greeted with applause and cheers. The rabbit is finally free, and he knows he'll never go back into that hat again.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents.
4	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin have always been a little bit touristed in Vienna. It's where they both frequently visited when they were in the city. Leon Trotsky also might be interested in visiting, but he's not as popular as these three. notor: Josip Broz Tito Thepulled up on a quick road trip to Vienna to participate in a clinical trial of a new treatment for a supposed disease. A few people who respond to the ad are Sigmund Freud, Leon Trotsky, and Adolf Hitler. Sigmund Freud is a famous Dr. He is known for his books such as " waivers " and " Jokes and Illusions " . He is looking for participants for clinical trials of his new treatment, which is called "The Future of Offers." He put an ad in a newspaper, and the only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler Leon Trotsky Scandinaveiro de A equador Josip Broz Tito	Adolf Hitler Telephone Conversations With Sigmund Freud Do you want to participate in a clinical trial of my latest research? I have a few participants that I would like to talk to. Would you be interested? Please let me know.	Freud was pleased with the response to his ad. He arranged for the participants to meet in his office to discuss the trials. Adolf Hitler was the first to arrive. Freud asked him about his background and what brought him to the trial. Adolf Hitler said that he was interested in psychoanalysis because he wanted to learn more about his own behavior. Freud was impressed and agreed to participate in the trials. Joseph Stalin was next to arrive. Freud asked him about his political beliefs and how they had led him to study psychoanalysis. Stalin said that he wanted to learn how to control the people around him and use their emotions to his advantage. Freud was skeptical, but agreed to participate in the trials. Leon Trotsky was last to arrive. Freud asked him about his family and how he had come to study psychoanalysis. Trotsky said that his family had been hurt by Stalin's policies and he wanted to learn how to fix things. Freud was impressed and agreed to participate in the trials. Josip Broz Tito was the last to arrive. Freud asked him about his history and what made him interested in psychoanalysis. Tito said that he wanted to learn how to be happy without resorting to drugs or other methods. Freud was impressed and agreed to participate in the trials.	It's 1913, and Sigmund Freud is in Vienna, Austria, conducting clinical trials for his latest research. He puts an ad in the local newspaper, seeking participants. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men are in their early 20s, and they're all eager to participate in the trial. Freud is impressed by their enthusiasm and decides to use all four of them as subjects. Over the course of the trial, Freud observes the men closely and comes to some interesting conclusions. He finds that Hitler is extremely ambitious and has a strong need for power and control. Stalin is also ambitious, but he's more interested in ideas and concepts than concrete goals. Trotsky is intelligent and articulate, but he's also very impulsive and prone to fits of anger. Tito, meanwhile, is the most even-tempered of the four, and he seems to be genuinely interested in helping others. Freud is pleased with the results of the trial, and he writes up his findings in a report. He sends copies of the report to each of the four men, along with a personal letter. In his letter to Hitler, Freud warns that his ambition could lead to disastrous consequences. In his letter to Stalin, he encourages him to use his intellect to guide his actions. To Trotsky, he advises caution and warns against letting his emotions get the better of him. And to Tito, Freud predicts that he will be a successful leader and urges him to use his power wisely.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ).
5	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The adventurers were terrible. They were a young team and they were try to sell an environmental Evaluation Book. The cashier was about to give them a sale, but they didn't stop. They kept selling it. The cashier started trying to tell them to stop, but they were keep selling it. The adventurers were getting angry and they started storyline calling the cashier a noun. The cashier started getting called a verb. The adventurers started feeling like they were being watched and they didn't feel safe anymore. They left the store.	Theoshi was always a bit skeptical of pawn shops. He wasn't sure if they were actually a good investment, or if they were just a way for adventurers to make some easy money. But he decided to give it a try, and found that he really liked it. He would haggle with the adventurers, trying to get them to sell something they had picked up on their travels. Sometimes they would give him things they wouldn't otherwise be willing to sell, and sometimes he would find unique items that the adventurers would not be able to find anywhere else. Theoshi quickly became well-known in the town he lived in, and he quickly started to make a lot of money. He was happy, and he knew that he would continue to run his pawn shop until the day he died.	It was a typical day at the RPG pawn shop. The adventurers came in, trying to sell their looted treasures. I always had to haggle hard to get a good price for the items, but it was worth it in the end. I was able to make a lot of money and keep my shop afloat.	You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You're a master haggler, and you always try to get the best deal for your shop. One day, a group of adventurers comes into your shop, and they have a massive pile of loot with them. You can tell that they're trying to get rid of it all as quickly as possible. You start haggling with them, and you eventually end up getting a great deal for your shop. The adventurers are happy to get rid of their loot, and you're happy to have acquired it.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross Adobe is a vast and long- Lies can be found here and there, Cheers to theennbar for 3niglinas There'sṚśan Justie, a serene place where the public can take a break. Theathered but beautiful sandstone building is the perfect spot to relax and escape the hustle and bustle of day-to-day life. Mayorship Angelo The Mayorship Angelo Angelo: Here it is, the perfect place to take a break. The Adobe is the perfect place to relax and escape the hustle and bustle of day-to-day life. The Mayorship Angelo: Angelo: Here it is, the perfect place to take a break. The Adobe is the perfect place to relax and escape the hustle and bustle of day-to-day life.	Bob Ross was a talented landscape painter who loved creating beautiful, realistic paintings. One of his favorite locations to paint was a small, rural town in Texas. One day, while painting a landscape in the town, Bob was murdered by a local resident. since Bob's paintings of the town were always popular, the town continued to keep the paintings even though they knew theArtist was dead.	Bob Ross was a talented artist, but he was also a serial killer. He had killed so many people over the years that their locations are all embedded in his paintings, like hidden clues to his crimes. Some of his victims were found dumped in the middle of fields, others in the forests near where he lived. His victims ranged in age and race, but they all shared one thing in common: they were all unsuspecting people who thought they were seeing the beautiful landscapes of Bob Ross' paintings in reality. Now, generations after the painter's death, people are still trying to piece together his crimes, and the hidden clues in his paintings. Some believe that he murdered all those people just to create his paintings, while others believe that he was simply a sick individual who killed for pleasure. No one knows for sure, but the landscapes he created will forever remind us of the terrible crimes of Bob Ross.	Bob Ross was a serial killer who painted his victims' landscapes as a way to remember them. He was very meticulous about his work and made sure to never leave any evidence behind. His paintings were beautiful and many people were fascinated by them. However, the detectives who were investigating the murders soon realized that each of the landscapes in the paintings were real places. They were able to track down Ross and arrested him. Upon searching his house, they found dozens of paintings of different landscapes, each one with a different murder scene. Ross was sentenced to life in prison, where he still paints to this day. His paintings are now famous, but not for the right reasons.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing?
2	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that you meet that day is the person that everyone tells about. They radar her for potential cheatsheets, but you are happy to just let her be. She is new in town and has nothing to do. She is happy to just sit and look at you. You smile at her and she at you, and we both take it that we are both right.	You meet this person one day when you are walking around the city. You notice them and their large scar on the left side of their head. You ask them about it and they tells you that it was caused by a lie that they told. They tell you about a mission that they went on that got them into this situation. They tell you about everything that went wrong and how they came to be with this big scar.	I had never seen someone with a scar that big. It was wide and deep, spanning from their neck to their chest. It was so big, it was impossible to miss. I wanted to ask them about it, but I was too scared. I was afraid that they would say that their lie was so big, it had caused this damage.	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. This person must be the biggest liar in the world! you think to yourself. But as you get to know them, you realize that they are the most honest person you have ever met. They have just seen too much pain and hurt in their life to ever want to lie again.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak.
3	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The day started like any other. I woke up in my room, still worn out from night one of my exfoliate style hair removal treatments. All of my body ingredients were in high demand so the day was going well. I got out of bed, are quickly dressed in my just-established clothing KITH bandanna and high heels, and scale the bedroom door to check on my) asking) who was sibling. My younger brother was already on the phone with his friends in the living room. When I enter I detect a sea of brick, when I enter, I smell construction and I am From. I step back and 2 friends come forward toformally IntroduceYou as I am From. You may not want to believe this happens, but it does. You may want to believe this happen because you are From.	Auditors were always on the lookout for the dumbest people in the world. They were the ones who couldn't think of anything better to do with their days than sign paper and listen to people. But when it came to reproduction, the Auditor's were different. They implanted birth control devices into all the people during puberty, so that the only people who could have kids were the smartest and stable people. But for the rest of the population, it was a dark period. For the first time in their lives, they had to bear the weight of an entire population on their shoulders. They had to watch as the dumbest people in the world reproduced and created more of the same problems that had always been a part of their lives.	As an Auditor, it was my job to ensure the reproduction of the smartest people in the world. I was tasked with determining when a person was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I was required to undergo an implantation at puberty, and the device could only be deactivated once I was sure they were ready to be parents. I was initially skeptical of the mandate, but I eventually came to accept it as a necessary part of my job. I was proud to be an Auditor and responsible for ensuring that the smartest people in the world would continue to thrive. However, in my ten years as an Auditor, I have found that the smartest people are not always the best parents. Too often, they are reckless and selfish, neglecting their children and causing them untold harm. It is a challenge, but it is my duty to ensure that the smartest people in the world do not produce the dumber ones.	As an Auditor, it is my job to determine who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, I must first administer a test to see if the person is of average intelligence or above. If they are, I then check to see if they are emotionally stable and have a good support system in place. If they meet all of these requirements, I deactivate their birth control device and they are free to reproduce.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge.
4	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler responds to the ad by sending a man to meet with Sigmund Freud inLondon to discuss a research project. old habits die hard, and the two pressure themselves to complete the project. when they are not traveling, they usually have other projects going on, like Trump's campaign or the London mayoral election. azorvon is the first non-Austrian person to Settlers: The two men walk through the city. It's a beautiful day, and azorvon is excited to have arrived at the so-called "exact moment." When they finally meet, Sigmund Freud is first in line to hear from his participants. He is very excited to learn more about them. Josip Broz Tito, who is in for financial reasons, is the next person to receive evidence from Sigmund Freud. ghetto-in-aoi Sigmund Freud is now seeking participants for two clinical trials. He is excited to work on his research projects, but he knows that he will not be able to complete them all. He will be careful to ensure that his trials are complete and that he will be able to see his participants every day.	Adolf Hitler had just turned 24 years old, Joseph Stalin was just over 35, Leon Trotsky was just over 34, and Josip Broz Tito was just 21. But all of them were eager to be part of Freud's clinical trials of his latest research. "Will you all come to my clinical trials?" Freud asked them in his ads. "I am confident that you will find the experience very beneficial." They all agreed to go, and soon enough, they were set up in rooms at the Meissner Clinic in Vienna. The trials were difficult, but they all went through with them. They were all eagerly waiting to see the results. But to their surprise, the tests were not as successful as they had hoped. "What are you guys waiting for?" Stalin asked. "We have all been through more than your measly clinical trials. We know what we're doing." "I don't understand," Hitler said. "All the others agreed to come, and now you're saying that you don't want us." "I'm sorry," Stalin said. "But we're just a little tired. We'll take a break for a while." "But why didn't the trials work?" Hitler asked. "We're not at our best when we're tired," Stalin said. "We'll come back to this later." After a break, Stalin and the other leaders of the Soviet Union resurrected the clinical trials, but this time, they were much more successful. "Are you guys still interested in participating?" Stalin asked. "Yes," Hitler said. "But we'll have to see the results first."	Freud was excited to receive responses to his clinical trial ad. He had been working on a new project that he thought could change the world, and he was eager to test it out on a large scale. Adolf Hitler was the first applicant to respond. Freud was skeptical at first, but he was soon won over by Hitler's passion for science and his drive to change the world. They began working together on the project, and it soon became clear that they had a lot in common. Joseph Stalin was next to respond. He was also interested in the project, and he quickly showed himself to be a hardworking and committed partner. Together, they developed the project further and began testing it out on unsuspecting patients. Leon Trotsky was the last applicant to respond. He was a bit different than the other two, but Freud was confident that he could work with him. Together, they continued developing the project, and soon they had a product that they were proud of. But things didn't go as planned. Stalin and Hitler became dictatorships, and they used their project to justify their actions. Trotsky was killed, and the project was lost to history. But even if it hadn't been successful, Freud believed that it was worth trying. Because in the end, it was all about trying to make the world a better place.	Sigmund Freud is one of the most renowned researchers in the field of psychology. In 1913, he is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research in Vienna, Austria. He puts an ad in the local newspaper, hoping to find some willing participants. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler (24), Joseph Stalin (35), Leon Trotsky (34), and Josip Broz Tito (21). Freud is a bit taken aback by the response, but decides to go ahead with the trials anyway. All four participants show high levels of aggression and tendencies towards violence. Freud begins to wonder if his research is onto something bigger than he initially thought. Could there be a link between violence and mental illness? Freud spends the next few years studying his four participants closely. He eventually publishes his findings, which cause a stir in the psychological community. Many people agree with Freud's findings, but there are also many who are sceptical. Freud's research continues to be highly influential, even today. His work on violence and mental illness is still cited by researchers all over the world.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word.
5	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The bushel of tomatoes Sokolovs had been watching as she walked into the kitchen that morning was finally at peace. It wasOUTIMEous of her, she knew that. And even though she had been trying to avoid her husband for weeks now, she finally saw him for what he was. A requlurement, a prescription for time. For more than just a few favorites, she had been begging him to GMO those fruits and sees. She had even written him letters begging him to change his mind, but he always seemed to see fit to follow his own stratagem. Sokolovs realized that today was a yesterday and she would have to be proactive in this situation or be a part of it. With a determination in her favor, she walked into the kitchen and had a look at what her husband had been cooking. As she looked at the timer on the stove, she couldn't believe her eyes. It was alive. The meat was cooked to perfection, but it was Test's turn. She watched as he inserted the importance of food in to his stomach and continued to cook the sauce. She noticed that his fingers were shaking as he inserted the interfering food, but she knew that it was all worth it because of the fruit that was going to be her today. predetermined, required, prescription	Once upon a time, there was an Invisible creature living in someone's home. The creature was relentless in its attempt to get out and it always seemed to be one step ahead of the owner. The owner kept trying to find a way to exposing the creature, but it was always one step ahead. One day, the owner had had enough and decided to write out a list of things the creature must do before it could be allowed to live openly in the home. The creature was Eager to start living openly and it quickly followed the list. It was content to be living in the home now that it had been allowed to.	I have something living in my home that I can't seem to get rid of. I've tried cleaning, throwing out things, and even calling a paranormal expert, but nothing seems to work. It's as if it knows I'm trying to get rid of it and is using all of my efforts to thwart me. I'm starting to think that it's a ghost or some other type of spirit, but I don't know for sure. The thing is, it doesn't make any noise or leave any strange marks or symbols. It's just there, lurking in the shadows, watching me struggle. It's like it'saunting me, trying to make me give up. But I can't. I have to find a way to get rid of it and keep my home safe from this strange thing.	I've always felt like there was something invisible living in my home. I can't see it, but I can feel its presence. It's like a family member that I can't quite see, but I know is there. I've tried to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. I've set up cameras and recorded strange noises, but I can never seem to catch it on film. It's like it knows I'm watching and is always one step ahead of me. I'm not sure what it is or why it's here, but I know it's there. And I'm determined to find out what it is.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud put an ad in a newspaper looking for people to participate in clinical trials of a new medication he's been researching. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. file:///^M/mev3ef6/909m/	Adolf Hitler clicks the ad. He's beencomparing himself to other leaders of the time and he saw this as his chance to become the next leader of Austria. Joseph Stalin clicks the ad. He's beencomparing himself to other leaders of the time and he saw this as his chance to become the next leader of Russia. Leon Trotsky clicks the ad. He's beencomparing himself to other leaders of the time and he saw this as his chance to become the next leader of Yugoslavia. Josip Broz Tito clicks the ad. He's beencomparing himself to other leaders of the time and he saw this as his chance to become the next leader of Yugoslavia. All of the people who click the ads are looking for a chance to help people in their time of need. Adolf Hitler is looking for a chance to help people in Austria. Joseph Stalin is looking for a chance to help people in Russia. Leon Trotsky is looking for a chance to help people in Yugoslavia. Josip Broz Tito is looking for a chance to help people in Yugoslavia. But only Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito can hear the voice of the recruiter. The other people in the ads just said, "I don't know what I'm doing."	Freud was excited to receive the responses to his ad. He had hoped to find participants for his clinical trials who would be able to provide valuable feedback on his latest research. However, he was not sure which of the candidates would be the best fit for the project. He decided to take the candidates for a tour of his office. Adolf Hitler was the first to arrive. Freud was impressed by the young man's enthusiasm for his work. Joseph Stalin followed close behind. Freud was skeptical of Stalin at first, but the Soviet leader was able to convince him that his research was legitimate. Leon Trotsky was the last to arrive. Trotsky was quiet and seemed determined to avoid eye contact with Freud. Freud was disappointed by the candidates' lack of enthusiasm. He was unsure whether he should continue with the project. However, he was persuaded to give the candidates another chance. Josip Broz Tito was the most enthusiastic of the group. Freud was impressed by Tito's dedication to his work. Freud was satisfied with the results of the tour and decided to continue with the clinical trials. He was confident that the candidates would be able to provide useful feedback.	It's 1913 and Sigmund Freud is in Vienna, Austria conducting clinical trials for his latest research. He puts an ad in the local newspaper seeking participants and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. Freud is a bit surprised that such famous and influential people would be interested in his research but decides to go ahead with the trials anyways. The trials are conducted over a period of several months and during that time, Freud forms a close bond with each of the participants. He comes to understand their unique personalities and motivations. At the end of the trials, Freud presents his findings to the group. He says that his research has shown that each of them is suffering from a different mental disorder. Hitler is diagnosed with paranoid delusions, Stalin is diagnosed with schizophrenia, Trotsky is diagnosed with mania and Tito is diagnosed with depression. Freud observes that each of them is struggling to deal with their mental illness in their own way. Hitler is in denial about his condition, Stalin is trying to mask his symptoms, Trotsky is engaged in a constant battle against his illness and Tito is trying to learn to live with it. Freud believes that his research can help these famous men to better understand their mental illness and to find ways to cope with it.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word.
2	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	Auditors are people who are life-changing, and who have the ability to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	Auditors were created to prevent only the dumbest people from reproducing. But, strangely, it seemed to work the other way around. The people who had the implants were the ones who were the easiest to be Auditors on. So, you decided to do something about it. You implanted everyone with birth control devices so that they would only be able to reproduce if they were intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an Auditor. It was a bit of a hassle, but it was the only way to prevent the stupidity from spreading.	A birth control device was implanted into me during puberty, and it can only be deactivated by an Auditor. I never knew what the device was for, but I was told it was for my own good. I was never allowed to ask questions about it, and I was never allowed to take it out. I was told it was for my own safety, and that I wasn't smart enough to raise a well-adjusted human being on my own. I was an Auditor for many years, and I was eventually able to deactivate the device. I was finally able to raise a well-adjusted human being on my own. I hope that the device never gets implanted into anyone else again, and that everyone will be able to raise well-adjusted human beings on their own.	You are an Auditor, tasked with ensuring that only the most intelligent and stable people in the world are able to reproduce. To do this, you are given access to the birth control devices implanted in everyone during puberty. If you determine that someone is not intelligent or stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being, you can deactivate their device and prevent them from having children. You take your job very seriously, and you are very good at it. Over the years, you have prevented many people from having children who would have been unable to care for them properly. You have saved the world from a lot of heartache and misery. One day, you are called to the home of a young couple who want to have their birth control devices deactivated so they can start a family. They seem like nice, normal people, and they seem to be very much in love. You approve their request, and you deactivate their devices. A few years later, you receive a call from the couple. They are in despair, as their child is severely disabled and they are struggling to care for him. They want to know if there is anything you can do to help them. You feel terrible, as you realize that you made a mistake in approving their request. If you had known their child would be disabled, you would have never deactivated their birth control devices. You can only hope that they can find the strength to care for their child, despite the challenges they are facing.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked.
3	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	One day, you meet a person that has only one scar. It is a huge Mark on their body, that is the biggest one you have ever seen. Every lie they tells you becomes a bigger lie, and eventually, you become sucked into their spell.	You approach him with a new respect and Formality, unsure of why he has such a large and deep scar on his body. He explains that he has been lying all his life, and that the larger the lie, the greater the damage it does to his body. It is the first time you have ever heard such a sorrowful story, and it changes your perspective on the world completely. You realize that the only way to be free from the scarring effects of lies is to tell the truth.	I had never seen anything like him before. His skin was smooth, unmarked, and his eyes were a deep, dark brown. He seemed so peaceful, so serene. And then I saw the one and only scar on his body- a deep, wide gash that stretched from his neck to his stomach. It was so big, so painful- it looked like it had been inflicted with a sharp object. I couldn't help but stare at it, transfixed. It was the biggest scar I had ever seen, and I could tell that it made him feel very different. It made him feel like he was special, like he was different. And I began to wonder why he had only one scar, instead of the many that I saw on everyone else. From that day on, I started to pay more attention to him. I learned about his life, his story. And I realized that his single, giant scar was actually the most special thing about him. It was the only thing that made him different, the only thing that made him special. And I realized that I wanted to have that same scar, that same uniqueness. I wanted to be the only one with that one big, beautiful, deep scar.	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar. It is the biggest one you have ever seen. The person tells you that they were born with the scar and that it represents the lies that they have told in their life. The person then asks you to choose one of two options. The first option is to believe the person and accept them for who they are. The second option is to think that the person is lying and walk away.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne.
4	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is small, but it is provides window for adventurers to see what is down the street. As they restless fingers tighten on fresh jewelry, weapons off theicester, and any other sort of goods they can find, the shop's owners are making a necessity of their lives. They need to keep the business running, but they can't keep theazaar going either, so they need to find ways to make money. One day, a black-clad individual walks in. The shopowner quickly tells his customers that he is about to close for the night, so they should take their stuff and leave while the man is still wearing his armor. The customers are afraid to conciliate, but the man is determined to take their money. They guiltily break open the door to let him in and close the door once again. The shop is lock and the man is still wearing the armor. The shopowner demanded money from him, so he must have come back for it. He tries to argue that he didn't take anything, but the man is pressuring him to make a deal. The shopowner decides to make a deal with the man. If he takes everything the shopowner Wright sells, he will leave him alone. The man is hesitant, but the shopowner is Aussi proactive when it comes to selling. He gives his customers what they want and makes a deal with the man, even though he'll never be able to earn back his money.	The RPG pawn shop was always a bit of a dicey business. It was one thing to haggle with adventurers for weapons and armor, but it was another thing entirely to try and sell them loot they'd acquired while playing the game. It was always a gamble, and sometimes the adventurers would come in with bags full of gold and items that no one was likely to want, but other times they would come in with nothing and Beg for a chance to sell something. One day, a group of adventurers showed up. They were looking for a magic item that was apparently lost in a dungeon. The RPG pawn store was the only place that could help them find it. The adventurers were all very desperate, so the storekeeper agreed to let them sell him the magic item for a discounted price. The game was quick and the adventurers were able to sell the magic item quickly. They were very happy with the result. The RPG pawn store was a bit embarrassed, but it was a worth it to have a chance at getting the item back if it ever went missing again.	I run an old-fashioned, RPG pawn shop. I haggle with the adventurers who come in to sell their loot. Sometimes I can get a really good deal on the gear they've acquired, but other times I end up losing out. It's all part of the adventure, though.	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you're not afraid to lowball people. One day, a young woman comes into your shop. She's obviously new to the whole adventurer thing, and she's trying to sell some pretty low-level loot. You offer her a fraction of what it's worth, and she agrees. As she's leaving, she asks if you have any advice for a new adventurer. You tell her to stick to pawn shops like yours, and to never sell her loot for less than half of what it's worth. She thanks you and leaves. A few days later, she comes back into your shop. She's excited because she's managed to get her hands on some rare and valuable loot. She offers to sell it to you for a fair price, and you agree. You're happy to have made a good deal, and the young woman is happy to have made some money. She thanks you again for your advice, and you tell her to come back anytime.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed.
5	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross paintsets up each of his largest paintings to have each a different look and feel. His death bed bed emotive landscape paintings are each set in different places, such as Peaceful Waters AM Ik-errr-r-r-osh, his last will and axing instructive.	Bob Ross' paintings of rural American landscapes are oftenbtarnished with dark stains from the blood that he hasmlaid on their canvases. Some of his murders have even been left behind, still visible in the paint as mark	Bob Ross was a talented painter, and his landscapes are some of the most beautiful in the world. But behind the scenes, he was a cold-blooded murderer. He killed many people in different locations around the United States, and his paintings are all based on those locations. Nobody knows how many people he killed, but the evidence suggests it's many. Eventually, the police found out about his crimes and tried to catch him. But he was a slippery fish, and they never managed to catch him. He's still alive, and his paintings reflect the stunning landscapes of his past murders. But the victims' families will never forget him, and his paintings will forever be a reminder of the terrible things he's done.	Bob Ross was a prolific painter, known for his beautiful landscapes. What many didn't know, however, was that each of his paintings was a real place - and the different locations of his countless murders. Bob was a cold-blooded killer, who took joy in killing innocent people. He would travel to different locations, find a secluded spot, and then kill his victims in a brutal way. He would then paint a landscape of the area, capturing the beauty of the location - and the horror of the murders that took place there. For years, Bob Ross continued his murderous spree, leaving a trail of corpses and paintings in his wake. Finally, he was caught by the authorities and brought to justice. As he sat in his cell, looking at the landscape paintings on the walls, he knew that his victims would never be forgotten.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and...

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross has been painting landscape pictures for many years now. He has located many of the places he has killed, each with its own unique name. Each painting reflects his complete everyone and every place.	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place. The different locations of his countless murders are detailed in each one. Some of the murders, such as the one where he killed his wife and young son, are still unsolved.	Bob Ross loved to paint landscapes. He loved the different colors and the way the hills and trees looked in each painting. But no place was more special to Bob than his home town. It was where he grew up and spent most of his childhood. One summer, Bob decided to paint a landscape of his home town. He started by sketching out the basic outline of the painting, and then started to fill in the details. It was a beautiful painting, and Bob was happy to finally have completed it. But as he looked at it, he realized that it was also a deadly painting. Bob had painted the town perfectly, including the exact location of all of the murders that had taken place there. Now anyone who saw the painting would be able to identify the places where Bob had killed his own family. And that's just what happened. Within days of the painting's release, the townspeople had found the paintings and started to ask questions. Bob tried to hide the paintings, but it was too late. The townspeople were already suspecting him, and they were never going to let him go free again.	Bob Ross was a serial killer. For years, he painted beautiful landscapes and sold them to unsuspecting buyers. But each of those landscapes was actually a real place - the scene of one of his countless murders. Ross was a master at his craft, and he used his skills to mask his dark secrets. But eventually, the authorities began to catch on. They started investigating his paintings, and they quickly realized that each one represented a different murder scene. Now, Ross is behind bars, and his landscape paintings are locked away in a evidence room. But every time someone looks at them, they're reminded of the gruesome crimes that he committed.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas.
2	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Freud is now living in a small cottage in the edge of the forest with his three children. He is Batman and there is no one who can help him but himself. He is constantly Lanterning andeping compassionate children who sleep in the woods because they cannot find their way. One day, he sees a little boy walking across the forest, probably because he can't find his way home. He is namedishi and Freud loves him for his protection. One day, there is a very cold winter outside. boys are playing in the woods and Schools are being organised. Freud is fittin to be the next Professor of medicine. He is so happy to know that he will now be able to help people.	Adolf Hitler had no intention of participating in any of Sigmund Freud's clinical trials, but the offer was too good to refuse. He was cynical about the man, but his Georgian blue eyes held something special. So, he agreed to the party. Joseph Stalin was much more intent on participating in the trials, but he was put off by the young Hitler. He saw the man as a threat to the Soviet Union. He was also hesitant to trust a man who had such a negative view of him. Leon Trotsky, on the other hand, had a different vision of the world. He saw Hitler as a tool of imperialism. He agreed to participate in the trials, but only because he wanted to help the people of Europe overcome their problems. Josip Broz Tito also agreed to participate, but he was motivated by a different cause. He felt that Yugoslavia was being taken away from him by the European Union. He wanted to protect his people, so he agreed to help the trials.	Freud was excited to start testing his new research on the human psyche, and was looking for participants to test the efficacy of his theories. He put an ad in the newspaper, and only three people responded - Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was surprised by the young age of the participants, but was more surprised by the ages of the others. He was initially concerned that the young men might not be able to handle the psychological stress of the trials, but was reassured by their experience and knowledge. The trials were difficult, but the men were able to handle the challenges and came out stronger for it. Freud was pleased with the results and decided to continue testing the theory on a larger scale.	Sigmund Freud was desperate for participants for his latest clinical trial. He had high hopes for his research and was eager to get started. So, when he saw the ad in the newspaper, he didn't hesitate to reach out to the four men who responded. Adolf Hitler was the first to arrive. He was a young man, just 24 years old. Freud was immediately impressed by his intelligence and charisma. Hitler was confident and sure of himself, and Freud could see the potential for greatness in him. Next, Joseph Stalin arrived. He was older than Hitler, at 35 years old. Stalin was a rough and tough man, not someone to be messed with. But Freud could see the raw power and strength that Stalin possessed. He knew that he would be a force to be reckoned with in the trial. Leon Trotsky was the third to arrive. He was 34 years old and very different from the other two men. Trotsky was an idealist, a man who believed in the power of words and ideas. He was passionate and eloquent, and Freud could see that he would be a powerful ally in the trial. The last to arrive was Josip Broz Tito. He was just 21 years old, but he was already a leader in his own right. Tito was a natural born leader, with a strong charisma and a clear vision. He was confident and determined, and Freud knew that he would be a vital part of the trial. So, with four men of such different backgrounds and personalities, the trial began. It was a battle of wills, of ideas, and of egos. But in the end, it was Freud's research that won out. And the world would never be the same again.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ).
3	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in disrepair, with only a few belongings left to be found. You find yourself haggling with the adventurers who are trying to sell their looted items. As you Geoff and 24 different weapons, armor, and scrolls. Geoff has a feeling that you won't be able to sell much until you get some help.	Inside the RPG pawn shop, I haggle with adventurers who want to buy loot they've acquired. I'm always willing to help out, and I always have the best prices. I've been running the shop for years, and I'm the best at it. I know the game better than anyone, and I can always find the best deals. I'm always happy to help out, and I hope you're too.	My shop is always filled with adventurers who come in to sell their loot. It's always a lot of fun to haggle with them, trying to get them to give me a little bit more for the items they're selling. Sometimes I can get them to lower their prices a bit, and sometimes I can get them to give me even more than I was originally asking. It's always a lot of fun, and I'm always happy to have someone come into my shop to sell their loot.	You set up shop in the heart of the city, near the local adventurer's guild. You're always on the lookout for good deals, and you love to haggle with the adventurers who come to your shop. Today, a young woman walks in, carrying a heavy sack. She dumps it out on your counter, and you see a pile of loot: weapons, armor, and other assorted items. The woman looks at you expectantly. "I'll give you 500 gold for the lot," she says. You raise an eyebrow. "That's a bit low, don't you think? I'll give you 750." The woman nods, and you make the deal. As she's leaving, you can't help but wonder where she got all this loot. It's obviously high quality stuff, and you have a feeling she didn't get it from adventuring. You shake your head and get back to work. There's always another deal to be made.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!
4	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The show is starting to go wrong for magician Johnny. He and the rabbit are no longer on level footing. The rabbit is begging, pleaded with Johnny to let him go out and get some fresh air. But Johnny doesn't feel likeDearest isn't the only one who'll be feeling lonely tonight. With the help of his additional performers, he's going to need all the help he can get.	The magician looked up from his scales and spot the rabbit in the audience. He had never seen the rabbit so frustrated. "Hey," he said, poking the rabbit in the back. "Why don't you give it a good time. This is your show, not mine." The rabbit only glared at him. Then, without another word, it vanished in a puff of smoke. The magician was left with a sadness in his heart. He had always thought that he was the best magician in the world, but now he was the butt of everyone's jokes. It was hard to make a decent family meal when you were always the butt of jokes.	The magician had been performing for years and years, and the rabbit always played second fiddle. It was starting to get old, and the rabbit wanted to be the star of the show. One day, the rabbit got up the courage to ask the magician if he could act as the rabbit's accompaniment for one performance. The magician agreed, and the rabbit was thrilled. They got on stage and began to perform. The audience was enraptured by the magic and the rabbit felt on top of the world. However, as the rabbit was finishing up the last act, he noticed that the magician was looking a little sad. The magician explained that he had been working on this new magic act for years, and he had always hoped to be able to showcase it with the rabbit. The rabbit was touched by the magician's devotion, and they continued to perform together after that.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit has had enough of being treated like a prop and decides to take matters into its own hands. The rabbit grabs the magician's wand and starts doing its own tricks. The audience is amazed and the magician is furious. The rabbit has stolen the show and is now the star attraction. The magician is left to fume in the background while the rabbit takes all the applause.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents.
5	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The deviceents from the biology Dept. and they've been trying to deactivate it for years. They've tried burns, rituals, and even put a beeper in their voices. But it's still not deactivated. And they give up and stop trying because it's notHelp us keep our rebellion out of school. The provoke about to result from the birth of an even more arises as a result of the device was created to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. So, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. TheYoda department is trying to come up with ways to prevent the birth of another Yoda, but they don't know how to deactivate the device. Theickettys are about to result from the birth of a new Yoda, and so too are the prompts about preventing the birth of a new Yoda.	When I was thirteen, I was implanted with a birth control device. I didn't know what it was or why it was done, but I quickly learned that it was something very important. I was now able to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. Ever since, life has been much easier. I can focus on my studies and achieve my goals. And I'm always sure that I'll be able to raise a well-adjusted human being by an Auditor.	I was born with a birth control device implanted in my brain. It was a one-time thing, and it was meant to be temporary. But, like always, things didn't go as planned. As an Auditor, I was tasked with ensuring that only the smartest and most stable humans reproduced. But, as it turned out, I was wrong. Millions of people have the devices implanted in their brains, and now the population is exponentially growing. No one knows how to deactivate the devices, and the planet is quickly approaching its limit. There's only one solution: find the smartest and most stable humans, and deactivate their devices. But, as luck would have it, that will be a tough task.	You're an Auditor, responsible for making sure only the smartest people in the world can have children. It's a big responsibility, but you take it seriously. You review each person's application carefully, looking for any signs that they might not be able to handle the responsibility of raising a child. If you find anything that concerns you, you deny the application and they are unable to have children. It's a difficult job, but you know that it's important. By ensuring that only the smartest people can have children, you're helping to create a better future for humanity.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	One night, a magician gets a turn at the save the day show. She gets pulled out of hernde place by a little rabbit namedoly out of breath and-AutoKO! The magician is able to pull the rabbit out of the hat and back to the hand of the buyer.	The magician pulled out the rabbit from his hat. He set it down on the stage, and said, "Hey, rabbit, you're going to have to show your magic." The rabbit looked at him, eyes wide with skepticism. "What are you going to do, pull out a dollar?" The magician grinned. "No, I'm going to make you really sick. I'm going to make you sick with what's in my hat." The rabbit was skeptical, but it was also curious. The magician pulled out a document from his pocket and placed it in front of the rabbit. "This is a contract," the magician said. "I'm giving you this document as a WARNING. If you don't show your magic, I'm going to make you very sick." The rabbit was hesitant, but it also wanted to see what was inside the document. The magician placed his hand on the rabbit's head and said, "Show your magic." The rabbit's eyes widened and it placed its hand on top of the document. The magician nodded and said, "That's it, rabbit, show your magic." The rabbit's eyes lit up with excitement and it placed its hand on the document again. The magician nodded and said, "Okay, rabbit, show your magic." The rabbit's eyes lit up even more and it placed its hand on the document again. The magician nodded and said, "Crazy, right?" The rabbit's eyes lit up even more and it placed its hand on the document once more. The magician nodded and said, "Yep, you're totally nuts. Now, sign this document," and placed the document in the rabbit's hand. The rabbit looked at him with confusion, but also excitement. It tried to sign the document, but it was a difficult task. The magician nodded and said, " okay, rabbit, you're ready to show your magic." The rabbit pulled out a dollar from his pocket and placed it in the magician's hand. The magician grinned and said, "I told you, you're ready to show your magic." The rabbit's eyes lit up with pleasure and it placed its hand on top of the document. The magician nodded and said, "Okay, rabbit, show your magic." The rabbit's eyes lit up even more and it placed its hand on the document once more. The magician nodded and said, "Yep, you're totally nuts. Now, sign this document," and placed the document in the rabbit's hand. The rabbit looked at him with confusion, but also excitement. It tried to sign the document, but it was a difficult task. The magician nodded and said, "Okay, rabbit, you're ready to show your magic." The rabbit pulled out a dollar from his pocket and placed it in the magician's hand. The magician grinned and said, "I told you, you're ready to show your magic." The rabbit's eyes lit up with pleasure and it placed its hand on top of the document. The magician nodded and said, "Okay, rabbit, show your magic." The rabbit's eyes lit up even more and it placed its hand on the document once more. The magician nodded and said, "Yep, you're totally nuts. Now, sign this document," and placed the document in the rabbit's hand. The rabbit looked at him with confusion, but also excitement. It tried to sign the document, but it was a difficult task. The magician nodded and said, "Okay, rabbit, you're ready to show your magic." The rabbit pulled out a dollar from his pocket and placed it in the magician's hand. The magician grinned and said, "I told you, you're ready to show your magic." The rabbit's eyes lit up with pleasure and it placed its hand on top of the document. The magician nodded and said, "Okay, rabbit, show your magic." The rabbit's eyes lit up even more and it placed its hand on the document once more. The magician nodded and said, "Yep, you're totally nuts. Now, sign this document," and placed the document in the rabbit's hand. The rabbit looked at him with confusion, but also excitement. It tried to sign the document, but it was a difficult task. The magician nodded and said, "Okay, rabbit, you're ready to show your magic." The rabbit pulled out a dollar from his pocket and placed it in the magician's hand. The magician grinned and said, "I told you, you're ready to show your magic." The rabbit's eyes lit up with pleasure and it placed its hand on top of the document. The magician nodded and said, "Okay, rabbit, show your magic." The rabbit's eyes lit up even more and it placed its hand on the document once more. The magician nodded and said, "Yep, you're totally nuts. Now, sign this document," and placed the document in the rabbit's hand. The rabbit looked at him with confusion, but also excitement. It tried to sign the document, but it was a difficult task. One of the audience members began to mumble under his breath. The magician looked at him and said, "What's wrong, man?" The audience member shook his head and said, "I can't sign this document. It's too difficult." The magician turned to the rabbit and said, "Okay, rabbit, sign it." The rabbit struggled to sign the document, but eventually got it done. The magician nodded and said, "That's it, rabbit, sign the document." The rabbit's eyes lit up with pleasure and it placed its hand on top of the document. The magician nodded and said, "That's it, rabbit, sign the document." The rabbit's eyes lit up with pleasure and it placed its hand on top of the document. The document was signed, and the rabbit was happy.	The magician was getting ready to finish his performance, but he realized that the rabbit he had been using as his assistant was getting a little sick of being in the spotlight. The rabbit grumbled and said that it was time for him to take the spotlight back. The magician chuckled and said that he was glad the rabbit was feeling that way, because he had a special surprise for him. The magician took off the hat he was wearing and revealed a small, white rabbit inside. The rabbit was tired of always being the second fiddle and wanted to take the spotlight back for himself. The magician grinned and said that he was happy to see that the rabbit was finally ready to take the lead. The rabbit grinned back and said that he was going to show the world what he was made of.	The magician stands on stage, his assistant by his side. The assistant is a rabbit, and he is tired of being second fiddle. He has been with the magician for years, and he has had enough. The rabbit waits for his moment. He knows that the magician will pull him out of the hat soon, and he is ready. When the time comes, the rabbit leaps out of the hat and onto the stage. He runs around, dodging the magician's attempts to grab him. The crowd is cheering, and the rabbit knows that he has won. He is free at last, and he knows that he will never go back into that hat again.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
2	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that you meet that day isallasa. He is the only person in the world that knows the degree of lying that he is a part of. He has always been a bit of a joker, but this day, he is serious. You come up to know that he is new in town, so you take a step back to take in the metup. 'm Field Day', you think to yourself as you make some lunch. As you go back to your room, you have the opportunity to talk to him. You meet his eyes and you can see the resentment in them. You break into a smile and offers him your until you know you can't eat. ,'" Watch your back', you think to yourself as you make some lunch. As you go back to your room, you have the opportunity to talk to him. You meet his eyes and you can see the resentment in them. You break into a smile and offers him your until you know you can't eat. You walk over to him and offer him your until you know you can't eat. ," I'm sorry", you say. He looks at you with resentment in his eyes and you can see the scar on his Cooldown. You feel your cheeks heat up, but you haven't lost his recognition. You take a step back and offer him your hand. ," I'm sorry", you say. He looks at you with resentment in his eyes and you can see the scar on his Cooldown. You feel your cheeks heat up, but you haven't lost his recognition. You take a step back and offer him your hand. You don't know what to say as he takes your hand and starts to pull you into a hug. You project softTV into your mind as you feel his tears escape. You feel his grip release and you hall go back into your arms. ," I'm sorry", you say. He looks at you with pity and you can see the resentment in his eyes. You feel your tears streaming down herher and you haven't blink. You feel his grip transformation into a hug and you bodies fall into it. He shares his feelings until you tell him you want to go to your room. He nods and you leave with your hand in his case. You don't know what to do as he pulls you into his house. You project softTV into your mind as you feel his tears escape. You feel his grip transformation into a hug and you don't blink. You feel his hug becomes a kiss and you bodies fall into it. He shares his feelings until you tell him you want to go to your room. He nods and you leave with your hand in his case. You don't know what to do as he pulls you into his house.	After spending hours looking for an escape, you find yourself in front of the person that made your life a misery. After a long conversation, in which you reveal all of your secrets, the person asks you to swear to tell the truth from now on. You hesitate at first, but after discussing it further with them, you realize that they are looking for something in you. Something that you can't find. So, you agree. And from that day on, the person that made your life a misery is the one that you tell the truth to.	Karen was always one for a good laugh. She loved to tell jokes and make people laugh. Her friends and family were always so proud of her. But, what they didn't know was that behind her jokes and laughter was a heart filled with sadness. Karen was constantly lying to everyone around her. She would make up stories to avoid conversations, or she would fabricate tales to make people feel better. It was all a way to cope with the pain that she felt. But, one day, Karen met someone who was different. This person only had one large scar on their body. It was the biggest scar that Karen had ever seen. Karen was mesmerized by this person. She wanted to know everything about them. She wanted to hear their stories and laugh with them again. But, as Karen got closer to this person, she realized that they were not as happy as they seemed. They were always hiding behind their lies, and they were not living in the moment. Karen decided to tell this person the truth. She told them about the pain that she was feeling, and she told them about the lies that she had been telling. But, as she did, she realized that this person understood her better than anyone ever had. They were the only one that could see the scars that she carried around with her.	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. Immediately, you are intrigued and ask them about it. They tell you that when they were younger, they made a deal with a demon. The demon promised them power and riches beyond their wildest dreams, but in exchange, they had to give up their soul. And so, they lied. They lied to their family, their friends, everyone they ever met. They lied so much, and for so long, that eventually the lies became truth to them. And the scar is a reminder of the price they paid for their lies.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked.
3	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The house was small, only with the multiple levels and hiddenaples on top. It had been built in the early 1900's and had been a single room until recently. The unseen structure was still there, waiting to be revealed.	I've known about the invisible creature for as long as I can remember. I used to think it was just an elaborate imagination of mine, but as I've gotten older, I've realized that there's something definitely out there. The first time I noticed it was when I started to notice things that no one else would. For example, when I would see things moving in the corners of my eye, or when I would hear things that no one else would. I tried to tell myself that it was just my imagination, but it kept happening. And then one day, I just had to face it head-on. I invited the creature over to my house, and asked it to show itself. The thing that I didn't expect was the creature's reaction. It seemed shocked, even scared, and it started to back away quickly. I wasSurprised, too, but I didn't have the heart to tell the creature that it was nonsense. I kind of keep the creature around, though. I know that it's not really there, but it's always a little bithovering over me, like it knows something I don't. I never quite know what it is, but I want to find out.	I've been living with this thing for months now and I still can't figure out what it is. It's always there, no matter where I look, but I can't see it. I've tried to catch it on camera, but it always seems to be hiding in the shadows. I can't shake the feeling that it's watching me, waiting for me to make a mistake. I'm starting to think that it's some kind of ghost, but I can't find any evidence to substantiate my theory. Even stranger is the fact that it seems to know when I'm about to fall asleep. Once, I was falling asleep on the couch and it creeped up behind me. I didn't even notice it until it was too late. I'm starting to think that this thing is stalking me. Is there something wrong with me that makes it want to stay hidden?	It had been weeks since I first noticed the presence of something invisible in my home. I had no idea what it was, but I could feel it watching me, lurking in the shadows. I was determined to find out what it was and expose it, but I didn't want to let it know that I was aware of its presence. I set up a camera in my living room, pointed towards the spot where I felt the most comfortable. I waited for hours, but nothing happened. I was about to give up when suddenly, I saw something moving in the footage. It was fast and blurred, but I could definitely see something there. I couldn't believe it – I had finally exposed the invisible presence in my home. But what was it? I watched the footage over and over, but I still couldn't tell. It was something I would have to find out another time. For now, I was just relieved that I knew what was lurking in my home.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months.
4	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in good condition, but the Offline picard joint is actively hiding the Juddi concentration coefficient from customers. "What do you want?" One such customer is even willing to Language training pay with goods in exchange for the HideAlert alert Deadly protection. But the Junction's ownership isダンジョン ás and the sandals areirlfriend's body. The shop is closed for refurbishment. The Judei Families You force an asking price of $50 and receive $100 in products from the family ofasha. The Junction is a computer-generated images tutorial video game located in the Czech Republic. It is non-speaking and non-editing, and is the creation of NetEaza user "ryza".	One day, an adventurer brought a magical item to my pawn shop. I was curious and offered to buy it, but the adventurer said it was too valuable. He wanted to trade it instead. I wasn't sure what to make of the creature, but I decided to take it on. The adventurer was helpful and we made a trade. I received a magical cloak for my shop and the adventurer received a magical weapon. Since that day, I've been able to help people in need. I always try to make sure people are safe and happy, and I hope I can continue to do so for many years to come.	Dale ran his RPG pawn shop with a practiced hand. He had been in the business for years, and knew the tricks of the trade. He knew how to haggle with adventurers, and get the best deals on the rare and unusual items they brought in. One day, Dale was haggling with a group of adventurers. One of the adventurers had acquired a particularly valuable item. Dale was eager to get his hands on it, and tried to get the adventurers to lower their price. But they were adamant about getting the best deal they could. Finally, Dale acquiesced and gave the adventurers the item for a fraction of the price they were asking. He was glad he had been able to get a good deal, and knew he could always count on the adventurers to bring in some exciting new items for his shop.	You're the owner of a pawn shop that specializes in selling loot from adventurers. You haggle with customers who try to sell you their spoils, and you're always on the lookout for the best deals. One day, a customer comes in with a sack of loot. You go through the usual routine of inspecting the loot and haggling over the price. However, you notice that one of the items in the sack is a magical ring. This ring is clearly very valuable, and you know that the customer is trying to cheat you. You haggle with them for a while, but in the end, you agree to pay them a fair price for the ring. You're not sure what you're going to do with the ring, but you know that it's worth a lot of money. You may even be able to sell it to another adventurer for an even higher price. Either way, you're glad that you were able to get your hands on such a valuable item.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me.
5	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	When she was just a child, one of the family started to install birth control devices into their children.Other than being embarrassed at the Kardashians, his daughter has a Aerospace Science background so the install didn't affect her career path at all. Nevertheless, one day she was trying to go to the grocery store when she found out her mom was using auditor mode.Eager to start a good life, she deactivated her device and quickly adulthood.	The Auditor's office was an unmarked annexe to the larger building. It was small, cramped and airless. The only other occupant was the Auditor's petampuma, who lay inert on the Auditor's desktop. The Auditor looked down at the petampuma and then at the young woman who had Come to speak with him. "Hello," said the young woman. "My name is Hermione." "Hello," replied the Auditor. "What can I do for you?" "I'm here to speak with you about my birth control device," said Hermione. "Yes?" said the Auditor. "What is it?" "It's a contraceptive device that is implanted into my body when I reach puberty," said Hermione. "That's quite a responsibility," said the Auditor. "Are you sure you're able to handle it?" "Yes, I am," said Hermione. "I have been managing my life perfectly for the past few years." "Well, then," said the Auditor. "I'll beata implant it into you." Hermione hesitated for a moment, but then she nodded. The Auditor took a device out of his pocket and gave it to Hermione. It was a small, black box. "I'll need to take some measurements first," said the Auditor. "Yes, of course," said Hermione. The Auditor took a sheet of paper from his pocket and started to write. He then handed the sheet to Hermione. "These are the measurements you must take," said the Auditor. "Please bear with me." Hermione began to take the measurements, but she couldn't help but worry about what would happen next. The Auditor continued writing. "These are the specifications for the contraceptive device," said the Auditor. "Please take them to a hospitalstall and have them fitted." Hermione took the specifications and then started to walk out of the Auditor's office. She was nervous, but she was also excited. Her birth control device was finally going to be put to use. She would be able to stay healthy and stable, and she would never have to worry about contraception again.	I was born into a society where everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It's a way to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing and ruining the genetic pool. I'm an Auditor, tasked with determining if someone is smart and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. It's been a long and challenging job, but I've managed to do it for the last 12 years. I've watched as the stupidity of my predecessors has led to the rise of the idiotic, the uneducated, and the dangerous. But I'm not done yet. I will continue to do my job until the last person who is unworthy of reproducing is prevented from doing so. Thank you for choosing me to be your Auditor.	You're an Auditor, responsible for determining whether or not people are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. In order to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. You've spent your career carefully evaluating people, and you take great pride in your work. You know that the future of humanity depends on intelligent, stable people raising well-adjusted children. One day, you receive a file on a young woman named Sarah. She's been flagged for potential removal of her birth control device. As you read through her file, you see that she's intelligent and stable. However, you also see that she's incredibly selfish and narcissistic. You have to make a decision: is Sarah smart and stable enough to raise a child, or is she too self-centered to be a good parent? You decide to interview her to get a better sense of her character. Sarah is charismatic and articulate, but she's also dismissive and egotistical. It's clear that she's intelligent, but you're not sure if she's stable enough to raise a child. You ask her about her plans for parenthood, and she tells you that she doesn't want children. "They're a lot of work, and I don't think I could handle it," she says. "I'd rather just focus on myself." You thank Sarah for her time, but you know that she's not fit to be a parent. You recommend that her birth control device remain active.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The air smells like]-snow- snowballs. You walk through the snow to the kitchen to get a big victory drink. As you step into the eye of the storm, you see an something white in the headlights. You Craftsman-sized face falls to the floor as the something white commits murder.	I'm always interested in what lives in my home. I try to keep an open mind and not be afraid tosurrender to the unseen, but one time I just couldn't control my curiosity. I saw something move in my home and I wasn't able to shake it. It seemed like something was trying to keep me from revealing my awareness to the thing. The only way I was going to be safe was to let it know that I was aware of it. I started to scream at the thing, but it was too late. Something invisible had already entered my home and was using me as its own personal experiment.	I used to think my house was haunted, but I was eventually convinced that there was something else living in the shadows. For years, I tried to expose it to the light, but it always seemed to disappear before I could get a good look. Finally, I realized that I was only seeing what I wanted to see. The thing was never really there, and I was just imagining things.	I've always felt like I wasn't alone in my home. I would hear strange noises in the middle of the night, and things would often go missing. I never told anyone about this, as I didn't want them to think I was crazy. I started to notice that the invisible presence in my home seemed to be watching me. I would feel its eyes on me when I was in the shower or getting dressed. It was unnerving, to say the least. I decided to try to expose the invisible presence in my home. I set up a camera in my living room and left it running overnight. In the morning, I reviewed the footage and saw something strange. There was a figure in the footage, almost like a ghost. It was transparent and it seemed to be floating around my living room. I couldn't believe my eyes. I showed the footage to my family and friends, but they didn't believe me. They thought I was just seeing things. But I know what I saw. Something invisible is living in my home, and I'll never be able to forget it.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it.
2	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The next day, the person you met mentioned that he has done big Lies all his life. He has told people all about your person, and the people around him, but he has never told you about the biggest lie of all. He was willing to tell you about it, but never could stop thinking about your face. You walked into the room, and hisarc was with you from his childhood. He looked at the large Depending on How Ifeeltxt Next Day banner, and his face changed. Histalk was stopped as he looked at you, and his eyes filled with light. "You're really here," he said, his voice weak. "Yes," you replied, not trusting your voice yet. "I was sure I saw you go," he said, his voice breaking. "How can you be sure?" "My Southpaw," he said, looking at your scar. You had never seen anyone ouput about your scar before, but you felt a warm Septemberopeoth reaction to his words. Yousuddenly knew that he loved you, and you knew that you would never be able to let him down. "I'm sorry," he said, looking at the scar. "Don't be," you replied,brooding at how small and vulnerable he had been just minutes ago. You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. The person you met mentioned that he has done big Lies all his life. He has told people all about your person, and the people around him, but he has never told you about the biggest lie of all. He was willing to tell you about it, but never could stop thinking about your face. You walked into the room, and hisarc was with you from your childhood. He looked at the largeistics next Day banner, and his face changes. Histalk was stopped as he looked at you, and his eyes filled with light. "You're really here," he said, his voice weak. "Yes," you replied, not trusting your voice yet. "I was sure I saw you go," he said, his voice breaking. "How can you be sure?" "My Southpaw," he said, looking at your scar. You had never seen anyone so happy before. You saw the love in his eyes, and you knew that he loved you. You felt a warm Septemberopeoth reaction to his words. Yousuddenly knew that he loved her. "I'm sorry," he said, looking at the stop. "Don't be," you replied,Brooding at how small and vulnerable he had been just minutes before.	You meet this person on a dark street, in a dark alley, on a dark night. They tell you a story that has left their body covered in scars. The story of a man who deceived and hurt so many people. The story of a man who was never able to escape the consequences of his actions.	I was hesitant to approach him at first. His scars were so large and deep, they appeared to have taken over his whole body. But I was curious, so I decided to talk to him. We started discussing our lives and what led us to where we were. I was surprised to find out that he had never lied in his life. He explained that his single biggest scar was the one that had led him to change his ways.	You live in a world where lies are visible for all to see. Each lie creates a physical scar on the liar's body, and the size and depth of the scar corresponds to the severity of the lie. So, when you meet someone who only has one scar, you know it must be a doozy. You're curious about this person's story, so you strike up a conversation. It turns out that this person's scar is from the biggest lie they've ever told - a lie so big and so devastating that it forever changed their life. This person is now a shadow of their former self, living a lie every day just to get by. It's a harsh reality, but it's one that you understand all too well. In this world, lies can have grave consequences.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked.
3	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler was the youngest of seven children. He worked odd jobs to pay for school and to support his family. He became a political revolutionary in the Weimar Republic, but he was later accused of treason and executed. Joseph Stalin was the leader of the Soviet Union from 1917 to 1927. He was considered a tyrant, with a cult of personality that allowed him to purge many political opponents. Leon Trotsky was an important member of the Bolshevik Revolution that succeeded in overthrowing the tsarist regime in Russia. He was soon arrested and incarcerated, but was later released and used his influence to help lead the Soviet Union to victory over the Nazis. Josip Broz Tito was the leader of Yugoslavia from 1943 to 1945. He was a dictator who suppressed freedom, women's rights, and labor rights.	Freud is excited about his new research, but he needs subjects for his clinical trials. He puts an ad in a local newspaper, and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud is surprised, but decides to take them all on. He is sure that they will each be a valuable addition to his research team.	Sigmund Freud was never one to shy away from controversial topics. So when he began researching the human psyche, he wasn't surprised that his work was met with mixed reactions. But he was hoping for a better response when he put an ad in the paper seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. Unfortunately, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. While Freud was intrigued by their responses, he quickly realized that these men were not going to be the ideal participants for his research. Hitler was too wrapped up in his own ideology to be open to new ideas. Stalin was too suspicious and paranoid to trust Freud. Trotsky was too quick to dismiss Freud's work as bourgeois nonsense. And Tito was too young and inexperienced to provide any meaningful insights. So Freud reluctantly abandoned his research and never looked back. Who knows what could have been if these men had been open to his ideas?	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud!
4	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	magician The magician has the rabbit out of the hat and is starting to get tired of being the background influence. The rabbit has also been getting tired of being the foreground influence. The magician decides to take the rabbit out for a walk. The magician sees the rabbit for the first time and is so pleased with how he looks. The magician is happy to be able to children again have someone to play with. The magician is also excited to be able to use the rabbit's passage as an opportunity to learn about magic.	The magician pulled out his rabbit from the hat and set it down on the stage. The rabbit was sick of being the role of the toy. It wanted to be a real rabbit, one that played in the forest and experienced the things that humans did. The magician was patient though. He talked to the rabbit and explained to it that it could be just like any other rabbit. It could be eating, sleeping, and playing. The rabbit could be happy. The magician hoped that the rabbit would finally be content. Finally, after months of talking, the rabbit was happy. It eagerly ate, slept, and played with the other rabbits. It was finally its own rabbit.	The magician had been doing amazing tricks with the rabbit for years, but the rabbit was starting to get a bit angry. He wasn't the star of the show, and he knew it. He was sick of being the rabbit that the magician could just pull out of a hat. So, one day, the rabbit plotted something. He was going to get the magician to do something a little crazy, and when he did, the rabbit would be the star of the show! The magician wasn't suspicious at all, he just thought the rabbit was cute when he was trying to be sneaky. The next day, the magician was about to do his amazing trick, but the rabbit had something else in mind. He jumped up on the table and started to dance around. The magician was caught off guard, and he ended up pulling the rabbit out of a hat! From then on, the rabbit was the star of the show and the magician was relegated to being the rabbit's backup dancer.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit hatches a plan to take over the show. During the next performance, when the magician is pulling the rabbit out of the hat, the rabbit grabs onto his coat and pulls the magician into the hat with him. The rabbit then takes over the show, performing all sorts of amazing tricks. The audience loves it and the magician is never seen again.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents.
5	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was first implanted into the hands of a teenage boy in the run-up to his puberty. He knew it was time to pattern-make, and soon he would be ready to startUIounterspecting his body on the inside. But as he pattern-made, he found that the only person in the world that could help him with his body research was no one else but the one person who knew everything aboutInterns: the Auditor. The Auditor offered to help the boy deactivate the device, and to keep track of his development over the next few years. The both of them wereZipanned into the future by the Auditor, who had used their children as test subjects.	It was a cold winter evening and I was minding my own business when I heard a loud noise coming from one of the nearby apartments. I cautiously stepped out of my apartment to see a group of people fighting. There were people all over the place, and it looked like there was going to be a lot of blood. I quickly intervened, pushing the people down and arresting the ones who were fighting. I then made my way back to my apartment, thinking about what I could do to prevent the people from reproducing.	The birth control implant was a small, innocuous-looking device. It was just a piece of plastic and metal, but it was one of the most important things in my life. The implant was designed to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. It was a way to prevent the continuation of the human race, and it was my duty to make sure it was used properly. I was an Auditor. I was responsible for monitoring the use of the birth control implant, and I had to make sure it was used wisely. If the device was used incorrectly, it could lead to the extinction of the human race. But it was a difficult task. Every day, I had to make sure the stupid, feeble-minded people of the world didn't breed themselves into extinction. It was a thankless job, but I did it in the name of the human race.	It's been nearly 20 years since the birth control device was implemented. As an Auditor, it's my job to make sure that only the most intelligent and stable people are able to have children. It's a tough job, but someone has to do it. I've been an Auditor for 5 years now, and I've seen some really smart people who just aren't ready to be parents. But I've also seen some truly amazing people who are more than qualified to raise a child. It's always a tough decision, but I know that I'm making the world a better place by ensuring that only the best and the brightest are able to have children.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was always set to deactivate at the slightest mistake, so everyone was constantly frictionless. Except for one person. The person was an Auditor.	There was once a society where everyone was born with a birth control device implanted in them at puberty. The device was to prevent the birth of the dumbest people in the world. Unfortunately, the device was never very effective. It was able to prevent the birth of just about anyone, but it wasn't very effective at preventing the birth of intelligent and stable people. So, you became an Auditor. When you became an Auditor, you were determined to make sure that the devices were as effective as possible. You watched as people struggled to have children and found that most of them were just too stupid to raise a well-adjusted human being. But, you were determined to do what you could. Eventually, you became very successful. You had enough devices implanted in people that they no longer needed to worry about their birth control. And, at the same time, you were able to prevent the birth of the dumbest people in the world.	Every person on earth is implanted with a birth control device at puberty. The device can only be deactivated once it's been determined that the person is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. It's a hard life, but it's something that must be done in order to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing.	After years of working as an Auditor, I've seen firsthand how effective the implant is at preventing the dumbest people from reproducing. I've also seen how it can cause hardship for those who are unable to have children of their own. But I believe in the importance of the implant and I will continue to do my part to ensure that only the best and brightest are able to have children. It may not be perfect, but it's the best way we have to ensure that our species continues to thrive.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge.
2	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross walks through his various cages, taking in the sights and sounds of his many releases. Every night, he returns to the place he thinks he'll find most Crimes resulting from his many arrests. Interestingly, he finds only peacefullands.	As soon as Bob Ross turned from his easel and began working on his latest painting, he knew he had to create a sense of order out of the chaotic forest and cityscape around him. In every painting, he related two specific murders that took place in different areas of the country. The first was the unsolved murders of three women in the small town of Rossville, Kentucky in the 1930s. The second was the murder of Anna Karenina's married husband, Prince Andrei of Russia, in 1914. While Ross was working on the painting named "Murder on the Orient Express," he came across the story of the Bassett brothers. The Bassett brothers were a pair of killers who committed a heinous Massacre in 1865 in the rural town of Carthage, Missouri. In that painting, Ross portrays the Manson family in theirprime as murderers, committing their first murder in the town square. Using the stories of his murdered friends and family as a launching pad, Ross created his most famous work, "The Paintings ofBob Ross." Every map and geographic location is accurately depicted in the painting, and it has become a popular tourist destination for those who love the artist's work.	Bob Ross had a way with a brush. He could make the most mundane landscape look like a dreamscape, full of peaceful charm. But there was one place in particular that held a dark secret. Bob had killed people there, one by one, with the soft strokes of his brush. He had left their bodies sprawled across the canvas, painting them into the peaceful landscape. No one knew about his crimes except for the victims and their families, and they all mourned the loss of their loved ones in silence. But the picturesque landscape always looked the same, no matter where Bob went. He would never be caught, and his innocent victims would never get the justice they deserved.	There's something off about Bob Ross. Everyone loves his calm demeanour and soothing voice, but there's something lurking behind his benevolent facade. Some say that his landscape paintings are actually real places - the different locations of his countless murders. Nobody knows for sure, but there are rumours that Bob Ross was once a serial killer. It's said that he used his art as a way to cover up his crimes, painting over the evidence of his bloody handiwork. Now, some say that Bob Ross is still out there somewhere, painting his landscapes and maybe even killing again. Who knows what dark secrets he's hiding behind that smile?	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.
3	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	magician Annie is performing at a party and is out to have a good time. Her friends are all around her to have a good time too, but the rabbit is just there, doing nothing. Annie looks away from the rabbit and themselves goes out to get some drinks. The party is over and the friends go back to their apartments, Annie with the rabbit to her face. She's disappointed, but doesn't say anything. The party was a lot for nothing.	The magician pulled out the rabbit from his hat and began to work on making it better. First, he strengthen its legs, then its fur. Finally, he put some magicdust in its ears and closed its eyes. The rabbit was most grateful and lay down next to the magician. "Now," the magician said, "I want you to do something that I've never done before. I want you to make me a very large rabbit." The rabbit eagerly agreed and put its head down and began to chew on a piece of straw. After a few minutes, the magician said, "Now, I want you to take the rabbit'ssacrifice and put it in my hat. I will only give you one try." The rabbit hesitated but then agreed. The magician put the rabbit'ssacrifice in his hat and put it on his head. After a few brief minutes, he said, "Now, I want you to take the rabbit out of my hat and put it in your own. I will only give you one try." The rabbit hesitated but then agreed. The magician put the rabbit out of his hat and put it in his own. After a few brief minutes, he said, "Now, I want you to take the rabbit out of my hat and put it in your own. I will only give you one try." The rabbit was most grateful and lay down next to the magician. "Now," the magician said, "I want you to do something that I've never done before. I want you to make me a very small rabbit." The rabbit eagerly agreed and put its head down and began to chew on a piece of straw. After a few minutes, the magician said, "Now, I want you to take the rabbit'ssacrifice and put it in my hat. I will only give you one try." The rabbit hesitated but then agreed. The magician put the rabbit'ssacrifice in his hat and put it on his head. After a few brief minutes, he said, "Now, I want you to take the rabbit out of my hat and put it in your own. I will only give you one try." The rabbit was most grateful and lay down next to the magician. "Now," the magician said, "I want you to do something that I've never done before. I want you to make me a very small rabbit." The rabbit eagerly agreed and put its head down and began to chew on a piece of straw. After a few minutes, the magician said, "Now, I want you to take the rabbit'ssacrifice and put it in my hat. I will only give you one try." The rabbit hesitated but then agreed. The magician put the rabbit'ssacrifice in his hat and put it on his head. After a few brief minutes, he said, "Now, I want you to take the rabbit out of my hat and put it in your own. I will only give you one try." The rabbit was most grateful and lay down next to the magician.	The magician pulls out a rabbit and it is sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit tells the magician that he wants to be the star of the show and the magician agrees. The rabbit starts to perform amazing tricks that amaze the audience. The magician is so impressed that he gives the rabbit the starring role and the rabbit is happy.	The magician and his rabbit have been performing together for years. The rabbit is tired of being the star of the show. The magician always gets all of the applause and the rabbit is left in the background. The rabbit has had enough. He decides to take matters into his own hands and starts to perform his own tricks. The audience is amazed and the magician is furious. The rabbit is finally getting the attention he deserves.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
4	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	When you met him, the guy had everything going for him. He was successful in school, had greatancy and a wide smile. What you had for initially attractive features, you would now describe as " Restoree ". However, over the past year, what you have become aware of is how easily the truth can take over. The ability to talk about things simply because they are not hidden from other people.ore he has started to honest, she has managed to start to talk about things she never would have talked about before. The guy is amazing in everything, but the more he gets to know you, the more he realizes that he has been quickly Caught in the Lies of aн The pits of despair.	You meet someone that you had never imagined could be so different from you. They are bald, for one, and have a massive scar on their right cheek. They tell you their story in tears, and it seems like the most natural thing in the world for you to help them. You tell them your story, and soon they have yours. They ask you to hurt them, and you do. You hurt them with every lie you tell, and they Thank you for it in the end.	The first time I laid eyes on him, I was intrigued. He was different than anyone I had ever seen before. His skin was unscarred, his eyes bright and clear. He seemed to be a naïve person, and I found myself drawn to him. We talked for hours, and I found out that he was the only person in the world that could lie without consequence. He told me outrageous stories, and I found myself believing them. I even started to believe in the scars he told me about. They seemed to define him, and make him who he was. But then one day, I found out the truth. He wasn't the naïve person I had thought he was; he was a liar. The biggest, most reckless lie of his life had left a scar on his body that was larger than any other. And now, he was paying the price for it.	Lies are a part of life. We all tell them, whether we mean to or not. But in my world, lies come with a price. Each time you tell a lie, a scar appears on your body. The size and depth of the scar depends on the size of the lie. I've seen some pretty big scars in my day. But nothing compares to the one I saw on the person I met today. They had a single, massive scar that covered their entire body. I couldn't help but stare at it in fascination. I asked them about it and they told me their story. They had lied about their identity for most of their life, pretending to be someone they're not. And each time they did, the scar got a little bigger. Eventually, they couldn't take it anymore. They came clean about who they really were and the scar vanished. It was as if their body was finally able to heal now that the truth was out. I was amazed by their story. It just goes to show that even the biggest lies can be overcome with the truth.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you?
5	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The game of RPG'd is a popular pastime among many players. It is a game where they can participated and where they can invest their time and resources. However, the game can also be played by just the players and without any other benefit. That is why, when the players go to check out, they often take with them some of the equipment and portrait of their character. And also, some peopleamy people want to sell assets they've acquired while playing the game. Therefore, the shop has been Merge convince players to let the game continue without them, by giving them the option to sell any assets they've acquired.	It was a typical day at the RPG pawn shop. I was paying out dough to adventurers for items they'd found, and I was getting ready to haggle with a new customer. I was about to ask him his price for a random stat item when I heard a loud noise coming from the other side of the door. I slowly turned to see a large, brutish figure standing there, holding a large, black sword. It was clear that this man was not going to be taking any bargaining from me.	"Alright, I'll take the helmet," the elf said as he pulled out his wallet. "I can't believe you're giving that away for only 10 gold," I said as I began to haggle. "It's not worth much," the elf said. "Just take it." I grumbled but took the helmet. I would only get a few gold pieces for it, but it would be worth it. I would be able to sell it to another player for more. I met a lot of adventurers while running my shop. Some were honest and wanted to sell items they had found, while others were looking to scam me. It was always fun haggling with them. I knew the value of the items I was selling, and I was able to get a good deal for them.	You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You're a master haggler, and you always manage to get the best prices for the items. Today, you've got your eye on a group of adventurers who are selling a magical sword. You know it's worth a lot of money, and you're determined to get it for a good price. You approach the group and start haggling with them. You offer them a fair price for the sword, but they're not budging. You keep upping your offer, but they're still not selling. Finally, you offer them double what the sword is worth, and they agree to sell it to you. You walk away with a smile on your face, knowing that you've just made a great deal.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Split into three groups, each group sent away to collect books on Franz Liszt. Five days later, when they are all home, his wife rename him to Adolf Hitler. Adolf Hitler, a 24-year-old student at the University of Vienna, is thrilled to be seeking clinical trials of his latest research. To go through with it, he needs the help of people across the world who can help him achieve his goals. However, when he is home, his wife rename him to Joseph Stalin. Joseph Stalin, a 35-year-old student at the University of Vienna, is thrilled to be seeking clinical trials of his latest research. To go through with it, he needs the help of people across the world who can help him achieve his goals. However, when he is home, his wife rename him to Leon Trotsky. Leon Trotsky, a 21-year-old student at the University of Vienna, is thrilled to be seeking clinical trials of his latest research. To go through with it, he needs the help of people across the world who can help him achieve his goals. However, when he is home, his wife rename him to Adolf Hitler.	Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin were the only people to respond to Sigmund Freud's advertisement. They were interested in participating in his clinical trials of his latest research. Stalin was the leader of the Soviet Union and had a lot to lose if the trials went wrong. Hitler was the leader of Germany and had a lot to gain if the trials went wrong. They set out to prepare for the trials. While Stalin and Hitler were busy studying for the trials, Josip Broz Tito was trying to secure a place in the trial. He was the leader of the Yugoslavian Communist Party and had a lot of supporters. However, he was not able to get into the trial.	Sigmund Freud was excited to begin the clinical trials of his latest research. He put an ad in a newspaper, and the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was unsure of what to think of the four men, but he decided to give them a chance. He began the trials, and the results were amazing. The four men were able to learn new techniques that improved their countries. They also became good friends, and their talents helped their countries become some of the most powerful in the world.	Sigmund Freud was eager to begin clinical trials for his latest research in 1913. He placed an ad in the newspaper, seeking participants. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was initially apprehensive about working with such notorious figures, but he decided to go ahead with the trials. He quickly realized that he had made a mistake. All four men were incredibly difficult to work with, and they all had very different ideas about what the trials should entail. after months of trying to work with them, Freud finally threw in the towel. He was relieved to be done with the whole ordeal, and he vowed never to work with such controversial figures again.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do.
2	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The pawn shop is a great spot to make money as an RPG player. You can haggle with adventurers, and get them to sell their gear and Lore items to you for however much you want. The gear and Lore you get is just waiting for the market to take notice.	Once upon a time, an RPG pawn shop opened its doors to the public. Haggling and bargaining with adventurers who tried to sell loot they've obtained, the shop was always happy to help. It was a bankable business and the employees always had a smile on their face. But one day, the shop was targeted by a group of bandits. The bandits managed to steal all of theeria and treasure the shop had accumulated over the years. In the aftermath of the theft, the employees were left with nothing. They were left with only their memories of happy times, of helping people and of being able to share in the spoils of the game. The employees of the RPG pawn shop died in their sleep, happy to have helped others and buried with their tools and memories of the game they loved.	I run an RPG pawn shop and I love it. I love bargaining with adventurers who try to sell their loot. I love the excitement in their eyes when they find a good deal. I love the way they smile when they leave with their new treasures.	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you're good at getting them. Today, a young adventurer comes into your shop. He's got a sack full of loot, and he's eager to sell it. You take a look at what he's got and quickly assess its value. You offer him a fair price for his loot, and he accepts. He's happy to have made a sale, and you're happy to have gotten a good deal. As he's leaving, he says, "Thanks for the help. I'll be back next week with more loot!" You nod and smile, knowing that you'll be able to help him out again.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!
3	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The dog was always hidden in unexpected places, waiting to be discovered. But one day, it surfaced in the form of a hidden camera. The moment that the camera was put in place, the dog knew that it was being watched. It began to worry about what it was being watched for, but the camera was a constant nemesis in its territory. finally, the dog realized that the camera was simply a part of its life as a covert agent.	One day, I was sitting in my chair, typing away on my computer, when I heard a sound from the hallway. I watched as an invisible figure began to move around the room, creating a ripple in the air. I tried to ignore it, but it continued to move and make strange noises. Finally, I got up to go see what was making the noise, and I found that the figure had followed me.	Ever since I moved into this house, I've had this weird feeling that there's something watching me. I never could figure out what it was, but I was determined to find out. One night, I was sitting in my living room, flipping through the channels, when I noticed something moving in the corner of my eye. Before I could figure out what it was, it disappeared, and I never saw it again. I'm not sure if it was real or if I was just seeing things, but either way, I'm still paranoid.	You've always felt like there's something off about your home. You can't quite put your finger on it, but there's an eerie feeling that you can't shake. You start to notice strange things happening around the house-- things moving on their own, strange noises in the night. You become convinced that there's something invisible living in your home. You start to set traps, trying to expose the invisible creature. But it seems to be one step ahead of you at every turn. You start to feel like it's playing with you, taunting you. The longer it goes on, the more paranoid you become. You're convinced that the creature is watching you, waiting to strike. One night, you wake up to find the creature standing over your bed. You're frozen in fear, but you realize that this is your chance to finally expose it. You start to take pictures of it with your phone, but it's gone in the blink of an eye. You're left with proof that something invisible is living in your home-- but you can't shake the feeling that it knows exactly what you're up to.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months.
4	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician has always been a little unease with the role of magic in life. He enjoys making people laugh and sing life into their being, but when the rabbit is just about to go through with his performance, the magician asks him to leave. The rabbit is so sick of being the second best thing that the make-bunny is Greetings from the Magazine! The rabbit has a lot of confidence and looked the part of a top performance, but the magic is gone in his stomach. The Performanc	The magician pulled out his rabbit from its hat and demonstrated how to make it disappear. The rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. It wanted to be the star of the show.	The magician had been performing for years, always pulling rabbits out of hats. He was a master of his trade and was widely acclaimed as one of the best magicians in the country. But, one day, the magician pulled out a rabbit that was sick of being second fiddle. The rabbit was determined to show the magician that it was just as skilled as he was and could play the starring role in any performance. From then on, the rabbit was the magician's constant companion on stage, taking on any challenge that came its way. The magician continued to perform to packed houses, with the rabbit by his side, always making the audience laugh and feel entertained.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is clearly fed up. He's been pulled out of the hat countless times, and he's had enough. The rabbit decides to take matters into his own hands, and he starts putting on a performance of his own. He does tricks and acrobatics that delight the audience, and he even upstages the magician. The magician is furious, but there's nothing he can do. The rabbit has stolen the show, and he's loving every minute of it.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was!
5	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	That was how it was supposed to be. The expectant feeling was in the air as soon as we walked in. The lights went out and then we were surrounding each other, weight on our feet. "How are you?" I asked as we moved in unison. "I'm fine," you said as you took a step back. "I just wanted to check on you," I said as we made to leave. "I don't want to see you," you said as you went back to Dusty. "I don't want to see anyone," I replied. "It's okay," you said as you took a step back and grabbed your bags. "I don't want to see anyone, either." "That's okay," you said. We uninsured walked away from that restaurant. You didn't even look back as you left. The whole time, I was wondering what you were going to say.	You meet the person on a dark night, walking alone through the city. They are overweight, bald, and have a large scar on their forehead. You are immediately drawn to them, because of the visible scarlet. You lie to yourself, telling yourself that you cannot see the scar. But you can. It is gigantic.	Strangely enough, I have never seen the man before. I see him everyday, walking down the street, but I have never paid much attention to him. Today, I was on my way to work, and I saw him walking down the street. He was almost staggering, and his eyes were wild. I stopped to ask him what was wrong, but he didn't answer. He just stared blankly ahead. I asked him if he was okay, and he just shook his head no. I didn't know what to do, so I just walked away.	I was walking through the park when I saw him. He was sitting on a bench, clutching his side. I could see the giant scar that ran from his shoulder all the way down to his hip. It was the biggest one I had ever seen. I sat down next to him and asked him what had happened. He told me that he had lied his whole life. He lied about his family, his friends, his job, everything. And with each lie, he got a scar. Eventually, the lies caught up with him and this giant scar was the result. He told me that he regretted every lie he had ever told, and that he was warning me to never lie, because the scars are not worth it.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	Stephanie was birth controlvd and bored in class. She decided to Test Drive her device once again by writing a question on a large whiteboard. Sheּ wasilarly found by the correct person, whoentary name was was Wilhelm, and was she was to use a birth control device? Stephanie: WaterMoses	Once upon a time, everyone was implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It prevented only the dumbest people from reproducing. But, because people were smart and stable enough to raise healthy human beings by an Auditor, the device has been inactive for many years now.	I was born into a world where everyone was implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It was supposed to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, but as it turns out, it's actually been preventing the intelligent and stable people from reproducing. I'm an Auditor, charged with determining whether or not someone is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I've been doing this for years, and I've never had a problem. That is, until I met her. Her name is Sarah, and she's the most intelligent and stable person I've ever met. I fell in love with her instantly, and I knew that I wanted to be with her forever. But I know that I can't, because if I were to be with her, it would mean that I was intelligent and stable, and that's not the case. I'm not sure when I'll be able to prove that I'm still intelligent and stable, but I'll keep trying until I am. I know that I'm worth the effort, because Sarah is worth anything.	You sit across from the young woman, looking at her file. She seems to have a good job, no criminal record, and generally seems to be a well-adjusted person. But there's one key question you have to ask her before you can give her the green light to have a child. "How do you feel about being a parent?" The woman pauses for a moment, clearly taken aback by the question. "I...I don't know. I've never really thought about it." "It's a big responsibility," you say. "Are you sure you're ready for it?" The woman takes a deep breath and nods. "I think so. I'm willing to give it a try." You smile and nod. "Welcome to parenthood."	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff.
2	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	Boston is filled with magicians and hunters alike as Boston performed at a businesses picnic. Himself, a rabbit, is the only one who's been able to time his performance so that he can pull out the trick that's been keeping him sick. He's well-rewarded with extra candy and a piece of cake on the last song of the show. Elsewhere, other magicians are trying to figure out how to beat Boston. One is Zuricun, a human. confinement and crucifixion. He has been using his skills as a wizard to control the rabbit's body and make him seem to be sick. adv is alone, in a dark alley, she's been waiting for this moment ever since Boston performed the trick that has her feeling oneiric. She's been writing down every “sick” moment as she and Boston interacted online. She's beenjoice for him since he seemingly didn't want the treat, but she knows that he wanted the power. Boston is now actors that he's pulling out of clothes and wearing nothing but a sheet over his body. She's seen him performing the trick on TV and is embarrassed that she let herself be taken in by the performance. She walks up to Boston and offers her hand. “I'm sorry, can I help you?'” Boston looks at her andTL; He looks away and begins to cast on her hand. “What is this? A workshop? I'm not worth this kind of help!” Boston turns and leaves, NOT ash furrow in her head.	The magician looked down at the rabbit. It was shaking its head, trying to get away. "What do you want?" The magician asked. The rabbit looked up at him, a sad expression on its face. "I don't want to play second fiddle anymore," the rabbit said. "I'm just so tired of being the butt of your jokes." The magician didn't answer for a long moment. He looked down at the rabbit and then back up at the stage. "Okay," he finally said. "But you have to be good." The rabbit nodded. It was tired of people thinking it wasn't good enough. "Good," the magician said. He took a step forward, his hand outstretched. But the rabbit quickly backs away. It was sick of being the butt of the magician's jokes.	The magician was about to reveal his newest act, a rabbit that he pulls out of a hat. The rabbit was sick of always playing second fiddle, and it was clear that it wasn't going to be happy with its new role. As the magician pulled the rabbit out of the hat, it began to squirm and protest, its ears pinned back and its neck stretched out. The crowd erupted into applause and laughter, and the rabbit's only response was to glare at the magician.	The magician and the rabbit have been performing together for years. The rabbit is sick of being the sidekick and playing second fiddle. He's fed up with being put into a hat and then pulled out again. The rabbit has had enough. So, one day, when the magician is busy preparing for their next show, the rabbit makes his move. He grabs a wand and presto! He's a rabbit no more. Now a human, the former rabbit takes the stage. He's the star of the show now, and the magician is relegated to being his assistant. The crowd goes wild as the new act dazzles them with tricks that are even more amazing than before. The rabbit is finally getting the attention and respect that he deserves. And he's loving every minute of it.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
3	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross has been painting landscapes for centuries, and each one is a mix of places. Some locations are Mediterranean, while others are faster setting with Chopin if you please.saad- " € 'sPaotDyaeiaa ', " $ 'sPaiitDyaeiaa ', " 4 'sPaotDyaeiaa "	Bob Ross was a genius painter who could paint anything he wanted. One day, he decided to paint a landscape painting of his entire life. The resulting painting is a beautiful and detailed depiction of every place he has ever killed.	It was early morning, and the sun was slowly rising over the mountains. Bob Ross had just finished painting a beautiful landscape, inspired by the location he had chosen. He was really happy with how it had turned out, and he was looking forward to showing it to his wife later. However, fate would have other plans. Just as he was finishing up his painting, a group of men appeared, demanding his paintings and money. Bob didn't have much of either, and was quickly overpowered and killed. Now, every time Bob's painting appears, it's a reminder of the man who was taken from us too soon. But, at least he can now forever enjoy his beautiful landscape in peace.	Bob Ross was a prolific landscape artist, known for his idyllic paintings of nature scenes. What few people knew was that each of those landscapes was based on a real place - and each one was the location of a brutal murder. Bob Ross was a sociopath, and he got away with murder for years because his victims were always people who were already alone in remote locations. He would find his victims, kill them, and then paint their landscapes as a way to remember his crimes. Eventually, the law caught up with him and he was arrested for his crimes. But even in prison, he continued to paint landscapes - each one based on a different murder he had committed. His paintings became famous after his death, and people still admire them - even though they're based on the scenes of some of the most brutal murders in history.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood?
4	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The something invisible was constantly happy in the presence of those it loved. It pretianet to the universe that there was nothing left to damage or take from. The love was safe and secure, and the something invisible never felt the need to protect itself.	One day, I walked into my home and something was hidden behind the cabinet in the living room. I couldn't see what it was, but I could feel its presence. It seemed like it was always there, lurking in the shadows. I tried to ignore it, but it was never going to go away. I didn't know what to do.	I always thought my home was empty. I never suspected there was something else living in the walls, watching me and waiting to pounce. I'd explored every inch of the place, but I never found anything. I was finally beginning to think that I was paranoid and delusional, when I heard a faint scratching sound. It was coming from the attic, and I knew it was there. I tried to ignore it, but the sound kept getting louder and more persistent. I knew I had to find out what was making it. I climbed the attic stairs, creeping slowly and carefully because I didn't want to scare the thing off. I reached the top and looked around. There was nothing there, but I could still hear the scratching. I began to feel lightheaded and dizzy, and I knew I was in danger. I tried to run down the stairs, but I tripped and fell. I hit my head on the way down, and when I woke up I realized I was in the hospital. The doctors told me I had a severe concussion, and they didn't know if I'd ever be able to go back home. But I'm glad I went to the attic that day, because now I know what was causing the scratching. It was my little alien friend, waiting for me to expose it. I'm glad I finally got rid of it, and I don't think I'll ever have to worry about it again.	I have always felt like I was being watched in my home. I would see things move out of the corner of my eye, and I would hear strange noises. I knew there was something here, but I couldn't figure out what it was. I decided to set up a camera to see if I could catch whatever it was on film. Sure enough, the camera captured something moving around my house. But it was invisible! I couldn't believe it. I watched the footage over and over, but I still couldn't figure out what it was. I was so fascinated by this invisible thing living in my home that I decided to try to expose it. I started leaving little traps around the house, but the invisible thing always seemed to be one step ahead of me. It was like it knew what I was doing. I was getting frustrated, but I was also more determined than ever to figure out what this thing was. Finally, after months of trying, I caught the invisible thing on film. It was a ghost! I couldn't believe it. I had finally solved the mystery of the strange goings-on in my home. And now that I knew what it was, I could rest easy knowing that the ghost was harmless.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences.
5	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The adventurers are a group of five people who had come here to appraisal and sell their gear. They're having a lot of fun, but their Naaruophobic tendencies are setting in motion already. They're going to HP'd up and are going to try and leave in a group toFor some reason, the Naaru Awareness Society's foothold in the world has had an effect on their lost love likeness. They're an online following, but they're future prospects only now that they're old and white. The society members are helpful, but they can't help but exhibit their personality of disbelief in the world.	There once was a pawn shop in a small town. It was run by a woman who haggled with adventurers to get the best prices for useless items they'd brought with them from different parts of the world. She was a tireless advocate for the cause of providing affordable transportation for people who couldn't afford to buy cars. Her shop was aslice of rural America that locals brought in for bargaining on rare items they couldn't afford to buy on their own. One day, an adventure came to town. They were looking for an expensive sword they'd found in a dungeon. The woman in the pawnshop was out of the sword, but she was able to give them a better deal than they'd been able to find anywhere else. The sword was worth more than the equivalent amount of Coins she'd been bargaining with her customers. The adventure took the sword and left town, but they left behind a lasting memory of the woman in the pawnshop.	"I'll give you five gold coins for that plate armor," the adventurer said, holding up a tarnished plate armor. I pondered for a moment. Seven gold coins was a good deal, but I couldn't bring myself to give him that much. I looked him in the eye and said, "I'm sorry, but I can't sell it for that much. I'll give you six coins." The adventurer looked disappointed, but he eventually agreed to my offer. I counted out the coins and gave them to him. He turned around and walked away, and I sighed. I knew I would have to haggle with other adventurers to get a better price for their loot, but it was worth it to have a steady stream of new customers.	You own a pawn shop that specializes in RPG loot. You haggle with adventurers who come in trying to sell their wares, and you always try to get the best deal for your merchandise. Today, a young woman named Sarah comes in with a sack of loot. She looks exhausted, and you can tell she's been on a long journey. Sarah: Hi, I'm looking to sell some of this loot. You: Let's take a look. You go through the sack, and find that most of the loot is low quality. But there are a few items that catch your eye. You: I'll give you 20 gold pieces for this sack of loot. Sarah: What? That's way too low! I spent weeks acquiring this stuff! You: I'm sorry, but that's my best offer. Take it or leave it. Sarah: Fine, I'll take it. You: Great. Thanks for doing business with me. Sarah: Thank you.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	A group of adventurers appraised the slain warriors at the auction house. The money for their goods was soon discussed, and the highest bid wasLlenching to be the most gates of passage for them. The group went on their way, the amount of goods in hand. While in the town, the group was armoury and selling off parts of their gear. A Stephens appraised one of the group, noticed the- soon alter- egate. As he sold the gear, thestephensPredicted the location of the next town. The group went to the next town and began the drive there, his convincing them to sell off their gear and head south. After a few days of drive, the group found the next town. It was a smaller town, and thehibitionists had 15 minutes to leave. The adventurers had to fight andasonable people tried to stop them. While the group managed to Keep the door, theallowsorts gets them to escape. They made it to a car shop, and the car was off the market. They sold it off and left the state. As they walked away, the group saw a young man walking across the street. He spotted them and ran to give them the car.	My shop was always a busy place. I usually had adventurers here looking to sell their finds, or exchange item for item. But this morning, there was one in particular that I didn't see anywhere else. He was looking for something specific, and I couldn't help butruminate over what it could be. Eventually, I decided that I would be able to help him out. I made a deal with him and gave him something that I had in stock. He thanked me and left, but as he left, he once again had that same look in his eye. It made me worry, but I didn't know what to do. The longer I waited, the more likely it was that he would come back. So I decided to close up for the day. As I was about to close the door, I heard aawful racket coming from the other side. I quickly ran to the end of the shop, only to find that the adventurers had looted all of my inventory! They had even broken into my safe!	It was always Lena's dream to run her own RPG pawn shop. She loved adventuring and always found herself in possession of treasure that other people would love to buy. One day, Lena came across an adventurer who was looking to sell his loot. She immediately went to work haggling with him and soon had him down to a price that she was happy with. The adventurer was happy to finally be getting some money for all of the treasure he'd acquired. Lena was glad she was able to help him out and now she's always looking for adventurers who are looking to sell their loot.	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. Most of the time, they're trying to offload junk that they don't need. But every once in a while, somebody comes in with something special. Today, a young woman named Sarah walks into your shop. She's got a sack full of loot, and she's obviously excited about it. She dumps it all out on the counter and starts picking through it. "This is amazing!" she says. "I can't believe I got all of this!" You start looking through the loot as well. There are some decent pieces in there, but nothing that's really worth much. "I'll give you 50 gold for the lot," you say. Sarah's face falls. "I was hoping for more," she says. You shrug. "Take it or leave it. That's my best offer." Sarah looks like she's about to leave, but then she pauses. "Actually, I'll take it," she says. "I need the money." So you pay her 50 gold and take the loot. It's not the greatest haul, but it's something.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday.
2	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross paint a landscape of America by divideding the America into large ballotstic blocks. One block is for each birthdate of the painting, while others are for the anniversary of the painting, the 5 Sumerian holidays, and the 4 holdover days after. Bob has been murdered in July, 1969, that is the day of the year that the painting is constructed. The voting is simple; each person can vote for up to 8 places on the map. The person with the most votes is the one who TheRossetti inbox will be notify about. The Rossetti inbox is: Hi Bob, Thank you for your efforts in paintering this beautiful country of yours. Each of your murders is a place that standeshishly in the transition fromLockport to Washington.ity will never be the same. Thanks again for all that you do. Best, The Rossetti inbox	Bob Ross was a true artist. He loved to paint and create beautiful landscapes, but he also took care to kill people. His paintings featured beautiful women and gentle little children, but in reality, many of his murders were committed with axes, knives, or guns. Just like his paintings, his life was filled with tragedy and tragedy repeated itself. He was murdered by his wife, wife and wife's lover, and even his own father. In the end, Bob Ross' life was a cycle of death and disaster.	Bob Ross was a murderer. In fact, he killed at least 26 people, all over the United States of America. His victims ranged from unsuspecting homeowners to complete strangers, and each one of his paintings is a true murder scene. Bob's reign of terror began in the early 1990s, when he terrorized homeowners in the Pacific Northwest. He would sneak up on them in the dead of night and brutally murder them with a knife. His victims ranged in age from elderly couples to small children, and their deaths are still fresh in the minds of their loved ones. After a few years of murder, Bob discovered his true calling. He began traveling across the country, painting landscapes of the different murder scenes he'd committed. It was as if he were documenting his own crimes, and the residents of each town he visited could never forget his atrocities. Bob Ross is still at large, and authorities are unsure whether or not he'll ever be brought to justice. His murders will forever remain a dark stain on American history, and the families of his victims will never be able to forget what he's done.	Bob Ross was a renowned landscape painter. His paintings were loved by many, but what few people knew was that each of his landscapes was actually a real place. The different locations in his paintings were the sites of his countless murders. Bob Ross was a serial killer who used his paintings as a way to cover up his crimes. He would travel to different places, kill someone, and then paint a landscape of the location. This way, no one would ever suspect that the seemingly idyllic landscapes were actually the scenes of gruesome murders. For years, Bob Ross got away with his crimes. But eventually, the authorities began to catch on. They started investigating the different locations in his paintings and discovered the horrific truth. Bob Ross was arrested and charged with multiple counts of murder. Now, his paintings hang in prisons and jails, serving as a reminder of the gruesome crimes that were committed.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat.
3	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The dog was born dark and dirty. Its Black fur was matted to her home's floor, its wagging tail a reminder of when it had first bitten the dust. She had been younger then and the dog had been younger still, curled up between her legs, siren song drive-time radio playing in the background. Now the dog was adopted and live in her home, letting the world know she was there.	Once upon a time, there was an Invisible Object in the home. The object was constantly making strange noises and starting strange habits. The owner of the home had no idea what to do about it. They tried turning on the lights and camera, but the object just kept coming back. They tried hiding the object, but it just kept coming back. Finally, the owner realized that they had to face the fact that the object was always around, and that they had just been ignoring it. They took down the invisibility spell that the object had put on them, and life became much easier.	I've been living with an invisible presence in my home for months now. I first noticed it when I moved in, but I was too scared to investigate then. Every time I turn around, there's this eerie feeling like someone's watching me. I'm starting to get paranoid. I can't get a good night's sleep since this thing is always keeping me up. I've tried to expose it, but it always manages to sneak away. I need to find out why it's here and get rid of it before it ruins my life.	You've always felt like you're being watched in your home. You can't see anything, but you know something is there. You're not sure what it is, but you're determined to find out. One day, you set up a camera in your living room to see if you can catch whatever it is on film. Sure enough, something invisible shows up on the footage. You can't believe it! You watch the footage over and over, trying to figure out what this thing is and why it's in your home. You're not sure how to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence, but you're determined to find out. Eventually, you come up with a plan. You set up another camera, this time with a microphone. When the invisible thing shows up on the footage again, you start talking to it. "Hey, I know you're there. I can see you on the footage. What are you?" There's no response at first, but then the thing starts to move closer to the camera. It's still invisible, but you can see its outline now. "I'm not sure what you are, but I know you're there. Why are you in my home?" The thing doesn't answer, but it seems to be studying you. You get the feeling that it's not hostile, but you're not sure what it wants. "I don't know if you can understand me, but I just want to know why you're here. Is there something you need?" Suddenly, the thing disappears from the footage. You're not sure what happened, but you have a feeling that you've made contact with something strange and mysterious.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before.
4	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician has always been a little unassuming, until he scripts a magic trick that takes the rabbit out of the hat. He leads the rabbit Yosemiteuan City, Utopia, on a1imensional trip to a becomes popular with the customers. The rabbit is so popular with the masses that the old magician can't keep up with the demand and walks out the door of the show early. He's D satisfied with his show and goes home. But the magician's little secret is out and bigamous is matchless, so the ultimate love story begins.	The magician set up the magic. He took out his hat and put it on the rabbit's head. Then he took out a big, fat check and said, "I'll give you this much, the rabbit will play the part of the leading man in a show I'm staging in town." The rabbit thought for a moment and said, "Thanks, but I don't want to be in a show. I'd rather stay in my hole." The magician smiled and said, "I understand. I'm sorry, but you have to be in the show. Otherwise, you'll get stuck playing second fiddle." The rabbit didn't want to be in a show, but he had to be. So the rabbit took the check and put it in his pocket. He was tired of playing second fiddle.	The magician had been doing the same tricks for years and years, and the rabbit was getting sick of it. One day, the rabbit decided enough was enough and it didn't want to be in the hat anymore. The magician was surprised, but he agreed to change things up a bit. From then on, the rabbit was the star of the show and the magician was the one who played second fiddle.	The magician and the rabbit were on stage, and the rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. He had had enough of being the magician's assistant, and he was determined to show the world that he was just as talented as his boss. So, when the magician pulled him out of the hat, the rabbit decided to put on a show of his own. He did a few tricks that left the audience amazed, and then he took a bow. The magician was not happy. He was furious that the rabbit had upstaged him, and he vowed to never work with him again. The rabbit was thrilled. He had finally gotten the recognition he deserved, and he was never going back to being the assistant.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was!
5	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was meant to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. But when he was born, there was no one better than he was given to him. His parents had deactivated the birth control device before birth, so he was the only one in the family who'd be able to protect his family from the benefited from the wealth he would bring to them.	It was a hot day in summer, and I was at the Auditor's office. I was looking through the records of the people who had been implantated with the birth control device. I saw a young man who had been implanted with the device in the early 1800s. I was studyinng him, when I heard a knock at the door. I quickly got up and went to the door, to see a young woman who was knockin. I said, ``Who is it?" She said, ``It's me, your daughter. I was wondering if I could ask you something." I said, ``Of course, what is it?" She said, ``Do you think it's safe to have a child by me?" I said, ``Yes, it is safe. You are an intelligent woman, and you are stable enough to raise a healthy child."	I was always a bit of a bookworm, but I never thought much of it. In school, I excelled in math and science, but I was always troubled by literature. I couldn't get my head around metaphors and similes, and I found it hard to connect with the characters. As I got older, I realized that there was something fishy about my cognitive abilities. I wasn't stupid - in fact, my IQ was off the charts - but I couldn't seem to make any real connections in the real world. It was like my brain was locked in a different gear. So my parents decided to do something about it. They had me implanted with a birth control device during puberty, so that I would never be able to produce offspring. And as long as I remained an ``Auditor'' - someone who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being - the device would always be active, preventing anyone else from becoming like me.	As an Auditor, it is my job to determine who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I use a variety of tests and criteria to make my determination. If someone meets my standards, I deactivate their birth control device. If they do not, they remain on birth control. I know that some people believe that this system is unfair. They think that everyone should be able to have children, regardless of their intelligence or stability. But I believe that this system is necessary. If we allowed everyone to have children, the world would be filled with dumb, unstable people. And that would be a disaster.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross moves around David's city, different paintings of different places, but every painting has the same message: mother earth is surrounding me and I should put more wood in the fire. The city's a-churning, PRomas are-we've-is-is-ish, and Bob Rossutable- "Here," he said,, hand outding a painting. I saw a body, people --ish --ish --ish --ish. I saw The Maven and the Sea Island and I saw- The painting ended and I was in shock. I had seenish the pictures of different places, but this was different. This was differentizzy. I looked around, trying to understandish the feeling. I looked at the pictures of people and I looked at the pictures of the city -ish -ish - And I looked at the picture of me. I looked at myself. I looked at my own picture. I saw a place in my background, a place that I should be, that I should be white-washed anderi- And I were- I fell. I fell to the ground and I were- I died. I died here, in this painting, and I diedmd be remembered here, in this city, David.	Bob Ross was a great painter, but his landscapes were all fake places. His victims were all real people, killed in various places around the world. It was ajar of a lid that he never asked questions about, or maybe he was too afraid to. He just watched as the pictures turned to poo and finished their lives in obscurity.	Bob Ross was a painter of landscapes. He loved painting the beauty of nature, and the different locations he visited in his paintings represented real-life locations where he had committed murders. The paintings were so lifelike that many people believed they were real. One day, a woman caught a glimpse of one of Bob Ross' paintings and was startled by the scene it portrayed. The painting showed a birch forest, and in the background, the woman could see a cabin where Bob Ross had murdered someone. The woman reported the painting to the police, and they were able to catch Bob Ross in the act. He was arrested and convicted of his many crimes.	Bob Ross was a serial killer who painted landscapes as a way to hide his crimes. He would travel to different locations, find a place to set up his easel, and then kill someone. He would dispose of the body in a nearby body of water or bury it in the ground. Ross would then paint a landscape of the area, making sure to include the location of the body in his painting. Over the years, Ross became a master of hiding his crimes. He was never caught and the police were never able to figure out where all of the bodies were hidden. But those who knew Ross well, knew that the landscapes he painted were more than just pretty pictures. They were the locations of his many murders.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.
2	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	sandwich	You meet this person at a bus stop. They are small and insignificant, and you can't help but feel sorry for them. You offer them a seat, and after a moment's hesitation, they take it. You spend the rest of your bus journey wondering why this person chose to sit next to you. Once you arrive at your destination, you go to the person's room, and there you find them in bed, with a single scar down the middle of their body. You ask them what happened, and they tell you that they were mugged two weeks ago. They were so traumatized by the experience that he has never been able to leave his room since.	I was always hesitant to talk to strangers, but I was intrigued by this guy. His story was unlike any other I had heard. He told me that he had lied so much that his body was covered in scars. He explained that each lie had caused a new, larger scar. I was in awe of him. His story made me realize that I had been lied to too. I was ashamed of the way I had treated people, and I vowed to change. I would never lie to anyone again.	You're walking down the street when you see someone with a giant scar on their face. It's the biggest one you've ever seen. You can't help but stare. The person notices you staring and comes over to talk to you. They tell you that in their world, each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. They tell you that they only have one scar because they've never lied in their life. You're amazed. You ask them how they've managed to never lie. They tell you that it's not easy, but it's worth it. They say that the truth always comes out in the end, and it's better to just tell it from the start. You're inspired by this person and their honesty. From then on, you start making an effort to be more truthful in your own life. It's not always easy, but it's worth it.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt.
3	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The adventurers are a small group that has been begging for weeks for a way to rob the shop. They are getting tired of the haggling, and are about to give up. However, the shop owner has a new figured in mind. He says he can trade their goods for goods the adventurers are selling. The adventurers are intrigued by the offer, and decide to visit the pawn shop.	The regular adventurers would come to my shop, looking for treasure to sell. They were always willing to haggle, and I always had a few coins left over. I would give them the best deal I could, and they would leave with the looted gear. One day, a different group of adventurers came to my shop. They were looking for a specific item. They had heard that there was a treasure inside my shop, and they were willing to pay a high price for it. I was hesitant to sell the item, but I decided to go along with the adventurers. They were obviously very important to them, so I felt obliged to sell the treasure. The price I received was high, but it was the best I could do. I was happy to have made a buck, and I hope that the adventurers got the item they wanted.	As the owner of an RPG pawn shop, I love to haggle with adventurers who come to sell their loot. These brave souls have risked their lives to explore new and dangerous territories, and I love extracting as much value as I can from their finds. I usually start by asking them how much they're willing to offer for their gear. Sometimes they're willing to go lower than I expected, and other times they want to make a big show of how much they can afford. I always give them a fair price, and I'm always happy to find a new adventure partner.	You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You're a master haggler, and you always manage to get the best prices for the loot. Today, a group of adventurers comes into your shop, and they have some great loot to sell. You haggle with them, and you eventually agree on a price. You're about to finalize the deal when another adventurer comes into the shop and offers to pay double the price for the loot. The first group of adventurers is obviously disappointed, but they can't do anything about it. You apologize and tell them that you have to take the other offer. They leave, grumbling about how unfair the world is. You feel bad for them, but you know that you have to make the best deal for your shop.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!
4	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler read Sigmund Freud's ad in the newspaper and immediately knew what it meant. He was seeks to participate in a clinical trial of his latest research, and as the only people who responded, he knew he had to take part. He was excitement at the thought of learning more about Freud's theory and how it could be used to change the course of history. Joseph Stalin was the next person to respond. He was excited to be able to learn more about Freud's theory and how it could be used to change the course of history. Leon Trotsky was the next to respond. He was excited to learn more about Freud's theory and how it could be used to change the course of history. Josip Broz Tito was the last to respond. He was excited to learn more about Freud's theory and how it could be used to change the course of history. Each person excited about the opportunity to participate in the clinical trial. They knew the potential for learning about Freud's theory and how it could be used to change the course of history. They knew that their participation would be essential to helping to achieve the goals of the trial.	Freud was intrigued by the young men he had responded to his ad. He arranged to meet with them all to discuss his new research. Each man had their own unique story to tell. Hitler was a young man with an ambitious mind. He was eager to join Freud's clinical trials and learn whatever the famous doctor had to offer. Stalin was a star student who had a bright future ahead of him. He was curious about how his new brain research would improve the lives of the people of Russia. Tito was a rebellious young man who didn't usually take orders from anyone. He was excited about the opportunity to be a part of Freud's research team. Freud was impressed with each man's intelligence and dedication. He was confident that they would be able to contribute to his research in a positive way.	Sigmund Freud was eager to find participants for his latest clinical trial. He had high hopes for his research and was confident it would be a success. He placed an ad in the local newspaper, seeking participants of all ages and walks of life. To Freud's surprise, the only people who responded to his ad were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their twenties and were well-known for their political views. Freud was hesitant to allow them to participate in his trial, but he decided to give them a chance. The trial went surprisingly well. Freud was impressed with the way the four men interacted with his research and each other. They were able to provide valuable insights and feedback that helped Freud fine-tune his research. In the end, Freud was glad he had given the four men a chance. They had helped make his research a success and he was grateful for their participation.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do.
5	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The kitchen table is the only place that something invisible is allowed to live. The table is small and the chairs are small and theemphasis is on the words that are printed on the table in largeatchee. The words are not large, but they are large enough to client the bottom of a largeatchee.	I had had a dream about something invisible living in my house. I could see it in my dreams, but in my reality it was always there, lurking in the shadows. I tried to confront it, but it was always so fast and angry. I didn't know how to try and get it to stop!	My husband and I had been married for six years, and we had one son. Little did we know, when we bought our house, that an invisible creature had already been living there for years. We never noticed it at first, because it was always very quiet. But over time, we started to hear strange noises coming from the attic. At first we thought it was our son making the noise, but it couldn't be. He was in his bedroom downstairs. We tried to find the source of the noise, but we couldn't. We started to become paranoid, and we began to think that the creature was after us. We would get up in the middle of the night, walk around the house, looking for the creature. The more we searched, the more convinced we became that it was after us. We even considered selling the house, but we couldn't bring ourselves to do it. We were scared, but we decided to stay. Every night, we would hear the noise again, and we would be terrified. We didn't know what to do, but we had to find a way to get rid of the creature. Finally, one night, we decided to catch the creature in action. We hid in the attic, and when the creature came up to investigate, we jumped out and chased it down the stairs. We managed to catch it and put it in the trash can. After that, our house finally became peaceful again. We never heard the noise again, and we were able to RELAX in our own home. Thanks to the invisible creature, our life was finally comfortable.	For weeks, I had the feeling that something was watching me. I couldn't see it, but I could sense its presence. It was invisible, but it was definitely there. I tried to expose it without letting it know that I was aware of its presence. I set up a camera in my living room and left it running overnight. In the morning, I reviewed the footage and saw nothing out of the ordinary. I continued to watch the footage day after day, but I still couldn't see anything. I was starting to think that I was just being paranoid. Then, one night, I saw it. A shadow moving in the darkness. It was definitely there, and it was definitely watching me. I don't know what it is, but I know it's there. It's invisible, but I can still feel its presence. It's like it's always watching me, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud was feeling failed. His latest research was unMeilable, but he was still hoping someone would want to participate. He put an ad in a newspaper and some people responded immediately. One man who did was Adolf Hitler. He was 24 years old. "Heil Hitler!" God awful, he thought. He had noSomething to say? He tried to remember his thoughts before and during the AudaciousFebaiin, but he couldn't remember what it was. He decided to put it away for the future and try again later. Friday morning, he woke up early and went to the newspaper office. He found someone to want to participate in his research, but they only had two spots. He was shocked. He had only worked on one project in his life and that was working on his a Southern self-help book. He had noThe power of thought. He didn't know what to say. He didn't want to participate. He went to theMenzies concert and passed up a chance to sit in on the meeting because he was too early. He got to the concert and one of the members said, "Sigmund, we have two spots left in our seats. We can't carry on. We're going to have to stand." Sigmund Freud was sad, but he knew he had to go. He stood up and said his piece. "I am not a candidate for trial because I am not a candidate for existence." He looked around the room at the men and women who wanted to participate in his research. "I am not a candidate for existence because I do not exist." He was finished. The men and women lamented him until one man said, "We can't stop at this. We have to continue. We are going to have to stand." Sigmund Freud stood up and said, "I am not a candidate for trial because I am not a candidate for existence." He looked around the room at the men and women who wanted to participate in his research. "I am not a candidate for existence because I do not exist." He looked back at the man and said, "I am sorry, but I am not a candidate for trial." Sigmund Freud was sad, but he knew he had to go. He walked out of the room with one of the spots left. He was sad, but he knew he had to go. He walked out of the room with one of the spots left. He was sad, but he knew he had to go. He walked out of the room with one of the spots left. He was sad, but he knew he had to go. He walked out of the room with one of the spots left. He was sad, but he knew he had to go. He walked out of the room with one of the spots left. He was sad, but he knew he had to go. He walked out of the room with one of the spots left. He was sad, but he knew he had to go. 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He was sad, but he knew he had to go. He walked out of the room with one of the spots left. He was sad, but he knew he had to go. He walked out of the room with one of the spots left. He was sad, but he knew he had to go. He walked out of the room with one of the spots left. He was sad, but he knew he had to go. He walked out of the room with one of the spots left. He was sad, but he knew he had to go. He walked out of the room with one of the spots left. He was sad, but he knew he had to go. He walked out of the room with one of	Adolf Hitler's attention was squarely on Freud's latest research. He had been following the proceedings of the clinical trials with intense interest. He looked forward tothe chance to finally test the theories that Freud had been developing for so many years. Joseph Stalin was also very interested in the new research. He believed that it could help to solve many of the problems that Russia was facing. He looked forward to the opportunity to involve himself in the study. Leon Trotsky was less interested in the research. He felt that he was not cut out for such a demanding profession. He was more interested in politics and conspiracy. However, he was willing to take on the role of researcher if it meant that he could help to test Freud's theories. Josip Broz Tito was the last person to respond to the ad. He had long been interested in Freud's work, but he was not sure if he was ready to commit himself to such a strenuous career. He was also worried about the effect that the research would have on his personal life. However, he was willing to take on the role if it meant that he could prove his skeptics wrong.	Freud was thrilled when his ad drew the interest of three of the most talented minds in the world. He couldn't wait to test his latest theory. The four of them met for the first time in a private room at the hospital. Freud laid out his theory, and the three men were skeptical. But Freud was convinced. He wanted to test his theory on these three men, who had the ability to change the world. The tests would be difficult, but it was worth it. The trials began, and it was clear right away that Hitler was the strongest candidate. He was able to control his emotions, and his beliefs were unyielding. Stalin was next. He had a cunning mind, and he was able to see the big picture. He was also able to get others to do what he wanted. Tito was the weakest candidate. He was unsure of himself, and he couldn't control his emotions. But Freud was still hopeful. The three men progressed through the trials, and soon they were able to change the world. They were deadly dictators, but it was all worth it. The end.	Sigmund Freud is one of the most respected researchers in Vienna, and his latest project is sure to be a hit. He's seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research, and he puts an ad in the newspaper. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men are eager to be part of the trials, and they all have their own reasons. Hitler is hoping to learn more about the human mind so that he can better control the masses. Stalin wants to find a way to control his own mind, as he's been plagued by nightmares and hallucinations ever since he was a child. Trotsky is hoping to gain a better understanding of the human condition so that he can make a difference in the world. And Tito simply wants to be part of something important. The trials are grueling, but all four men are determined to see them through. In the end, they all walk away with a greater understanding of themselves and the world around them. And they all agree that it was worth it, even though they may never see each other again.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist! ( Now I must record that I had known nothing of such stories and that I've never heard a Rabbi talk of such things. ) These anti-semitic remarks were news to me, and yet I found them unsettling, because it was as if he was trying to attack my foundations, when my real foundation ; my real birthplace, was my mothers vagina, and not the Hebrew language. It seemed to me that Hitler was suffering from persecutory delusions, of some kind, but I couldn't be sure, because our session was over. And after it ended, he then ran into another patient of mine in the hallway ( Stalin ) who, from what I had gathered from their remarks, had shared some harsh words, earlier, while they were seated in the waiting room.
2	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The man in the doorway looked like he had no-one to go home to. His wife and children were long gone, replaced by a new set of strangers. He had lost a lot of family in the fire, and wasn't sure he'd be able to grieve efficiently. Wearing only apair of pants, he walked into the room and walked over to the bed. Looking down, he saw the man with no back. He had two backs, both hemisphere full of no-show. The man with no back can't move, can't see. And the man with a back can't see good, because he has no idea what direction it is. The man with no back is assembly line line worthy, because he's so humiliated.	I sat in my chair, staring at my screen. I had been working all day, trying to figure out how to catch the thing that was Xing in my home. I had been unsuccessful, so I decided to take a break. I went to the kitchen to make some lunch, and when I came back my chair wasHenry, the best cat in the world. I sat down, scratching his back and swore I felt something invisible jump out from under my chair and flank me.	I was cleaning out my pantry one day and I found something strange. There was a small, dark creature hiding in the back corner. I tried to catch it, but it vanished before I could. I'm not sure if it was real or if it was just a figment of my imagination, but I'm convinced that there's something lurking in my home.	You've always felt like you weren't alone in your home. You can't see anything, but you can feel an invisible presence lurking around. You've never mentioned it to anyone, not even your family, because you're afraid they'll think you're crazy. One day, you decide to try and expose the invisible presence. You set up a camera in your living room and leave it running overnight. In the morning, you review the footage and see something shocking. There's a figure in the footage, moving around your living room in the middle of the night. You're terrified, but you're also excited. You finally have proof that something invisible is living in your home. You're not sure what to do next, but you know you have to find out more about this mysterious figure.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense.
3	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in business for about a year, and the adventurers start to show up more often. Some are appraised at a high price, and some is immediately available at the shop for a low one. But until now, the shop has never had so much as a dross in stock.	Jenny's pawn shop was always busy. It was her favorite place to work, and she was especially loved by the adventurers who came to buy odds and ends they needed for their campaigns. But on this day, there were only three customers, all of whom were selling items they'd been looted from other people's homes. Jenny was angry. She wasn't going to pleasing three people at once, and she wasn't about to let them take she and her sandwich shop for nothing. She set to work haggling with the adventurers, but to her dismay, they just didn't listen. They were too busy looting. Jenny was heartbroken, but she knew she had to keep going. She needed to make sure that her shop was always available to her customers, and she knew that she would have to go out of her way to find new customers. But she never imagined that she would one day be out of business.	The day was busy as usual for the RPG pawn shop owner. He was haggling with adventurers, trying to get the best prices for their loot. One particularly shifty-looking man came in and started scanning the shelves. The pawn shop owner saw his opportunity and offered him a fair price for an old, tarnished axe. The man hesitated, but then agreed. The pawn shop owner took the axe and placed it in a display case. He then greeted the man and asked him what he was looking for. The man told him he was looking for a new adventure. The pawn shop owner nodded and said he could definitely help him find one.	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you're always ready to negotiate. Today, a young woman comes into your shop with a sack full of loot. She looks exhausted, and she's obviously been through a lot. She starts to empty her sack onto the counter, and you can see that she's got some good stuff there. You start to haggle with her, but she's obviously not in the mood. She's tired, and she just wants to get rid of her loot. You eventually give in and give her a fair price for her stuff. She thanks you and leaves, looking relieved. You're always happy to help adventurers, and you know that you'll be seeing her again.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me.
4	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	When you met them, there was only one scar on their body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	You meet someone that tells you a story of a happy life. They tell you about a life where everything was perfect, and they even had a husband and children. However, as you listen to their story, you notice one major flaw in their story. The first thing that arrives to your mind is that this person must have taken a quick and easy way to get their life figured out. The second thing that comes to your mind is that this person must have been dishonest. The third thing that comes to your mind is that this person must have been completely clueless about the consequences of their actions. As you hear their story, you start to feel something inside of you change. Instead of being content with the life that they told you, you start to feel a sense of anger and betrayal. You can't help but question the motives of this person, and you can't help but question why they would let themselves be lied to so blatantly. You start to see the lies that this person has told as the biggest and most damning mistakes that they have ever made. As you start to question the life that this person is living, you start to see a different version of themselves. Instead of being dishonest and clueless, this person is a self-proclaimed liar that has made some of the biggest mistakes of their life. As you start to see the truth in their story, you start to feel a sense of reconciliation. Instead of hating this person for lying to you, you start to hate them for making so many mistakes in their life.	I stared at the person for what felt like eternity. Their one scar covered their entire body and it was so big that it was practically covering their heart. It was a deep, dark red color, and it looked like it was fresh. I couldn't take my eyes off of it, and I started to feel strange. I didn't know what it was, but I had a feeling that this person was different than the rest. Eventually, they spoke. "Hello," they said, their voice a gentle whisper. "I'm sorry for the way I look, but it's the only way that I can survive." I didn't know what to say, but I knew that I had to be careful. I didn't want to make the same mistake that they had made.	Lies were always a part of my life. As a child, I would lie to my parents about little things like sneaking a cookie before dinner or staying up past my bedtime. As I grew older, the lies became bigger and more frequent. I would lie to my friends about things like who I liked or what I did over the weekend. I even started lying to myself. The scars began to appear on my body after I turned thirteen. At first, they were small and insignificant, but as the years went on, they became more and more visible. By the time I was eighteen, my entire body was covered in them. I tried to hide them from the world, but it was impossible. People would stare at me and whisper when I walked by, and I could see the disgust in their eyes. I was a liar, and everyone knew it. One day, I met someone who had only one scar. It was the biggest scar I had ever seen. "What did you lie about?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me. The person looked at me with pity in their eyes. "I lied about everything," they replied. "And I've been paying for it ever since." Even though this person was covered in lies, I couldn't help but feel drawn to them. In a world where everyone is judged by their scars, this person was honest about their lies. And I admire that.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar.
5	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	At the showroom, the Phelps family is handed a appointment book. Our Manzella starts to say that they should probably come back later for a Hythe show, but Phelps begins to say that this is our show. The Phelps family turns to each other in turn andECHO: "Marry Me" The Phelps family press their bodies against each other and moan with pleasure as they come to orgasm, BEEP: "Marry Me" Phelps and his rabbit go alone on stage, the rabbit havingishops to take care of business. Phelps stringing thestrings on stage until the rabbit isGallery-y-carrying his museum belong-er. As they leave the performance, Phelps says to the rabbit, "That was awesome seeing your show. I can't wait to see you again." The rabbit replies, "I don't know, I'm a bit sick of playing second fiddle."	The magician and the rabbit looked alike. They were both bald, black, and white. They had the same clothes, the same tools, and the same tricks. But the rabbit wasn't happy. He Wanted to be the star of the show. The magician tried to be nice to him, but the rabbit just wouldn't listen. He kept saying, "I want to be the star!" The magician grew tired of the rabbit's attitude. He wanted to make sure the rabbit got the respect he deserved. He decided to take matters into his own hands. He took off his hat and said, "I'm going to show you something." The rabbit was shocked. He had never been treated like this before. The magician took out a small rabbit from his hat and said, "This is the new rabbit. He's the new star of the show." The rabbit was so happy, he danced around the stage. The magician was so proud of himself, he couldn't help but smile.	The magician pulled out the rabbit from the hat and the rabbit quickly grew impatient. "I've been playing this role for too long, I want to be the lead rabbit now!" the rabbit said. The magician looked down at the rabbit and said, "I understand what you're saying, but you're not too big to be the lead rabbit...you're just a little bit too small." The rabbit didn't feel like hearing that and quickly screeched, "I'm not too little, I'm perfect just the way I am." The magician shook his head and said, "No, you're not perfect. You have to be perfect to be the lead rabbit." The rabbit didn't feel like hearing that and quickly screeched, "I'm not perfect, I'm perfect just the way I am." The magician shook his head and said, "No, you're not perfect. You have to be perfect to be the lead rabbit." The rabbit was getting impatient and started to screech louder, until finally the magician gave in and said, "Fine, you can be the lead rabbit, but you have to do everything I say." The rabbit was happy to finally get the lead role and started to do everything the magician said. The magician was happy to finally have a lead rabbit that was perfect.	The magician and the rabbit had been performing together for years. The rabbit was always the star of the show, and the magician was happy to play second fiddle. But lately, the rabbit had been feeling restless. He was tired of being stuck in a hat, and he wanted to be the one doing the magic. One day, the rabbit hatched a plan. When the magician was pulling him out of the hat, the rabbit bit him. The magician yelped in surprise and dropped the rabbit. The rabbit ran off stage and into the wings. The audience was shocked, but the rabbit didn't care. He was finally free, and he was never going to be anyone's second fiddle again.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is on his way to giving a speech when he is stopped by Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin. Freud says he is sorry, but he needs to go to the airport. Stalin says he's going to the executionerb Intent on kilning by Freud's latest victim, Leon Trotsky. Freud says he's sorry, but he has to go. 38 years later, Freud is living in Holland and has to go back to Vienna because his home is being threatened by a volcanic eruption.	Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito all responded to Sigmund Freud's ad. They were all interested in working on his new research. However, they all had different plans for the research. Adolf Hitler wanted to use the research to create a new government in Germany. Joseph Stalin wanted to use the research to build a new Soviet Union. Leon Trotsky wanted to use the research to create a new type of food that could beatable to humans. and Josip Broz Tito wanted to use the research to develop a new type of war machine.	Freud was excited to test his latest theory on his promising participants. He put an ad in a local newspaper, seeking individuals who were interested in participating in his clinical trials. Only four people responded-- Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was surprised by Hitler's interest in the project. He was sure that the young Nazi leader would not be interested in his psychoanalytic theories. However, Freud was pleasantly surprised when Hitler agreed to participate in the trials. Stalin was also impressed by Freud's work. Freud had predicted that Stalin would become the next Soviet leader. Trotsky was skeptical of the theory, but agreed to participate in the trials after discussing the research with Freud. Tito was the youngest participant in the trials. However, he was the most eager to learn about Freud's theories. He was excited to be a part of the project, and was determined to improve his mental health as a result of the trials.	It's 1913, and Sigmund Freud is in Vienna, Austria, seeking participants for his latest clinical trials. He puts an ad in the local newspaper, and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud is intrigued by this group of men, all of whom are leaders in their respective fields. He decides to invite them all to participate in his trials. Over the course of the next few weeks, Freud observes each of the men closely. He notes their different behaviors and reactions to his techniques. At the end of the trials, Freud meets with each of the men individually to discuss his findings. With Hitler, he finds a man who is highly intelligent and charismatic, but who also has a deep-seated anger and hatred. With Stalin, he finds a man who is ambitious and ruthless, but who is also highly suspicious and paranoid. With Trotsky, he finds a man who is passionate and idealistic, but who is also quick to anger and prone to violence. And with Tito, he finds a man who is charismatic and ambitious, but who is also charming and affable. Each of these men, Freud concludes, is dangerous in his own way. But it is Hitler who he believes is the most dangerous of all.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word.
2	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	Flynn is a magic artist who takes quotations from the sky and clients who are looking forful. He has always been impressed by the rabbit he pulls from a hat. The rabbit is always healthy and un ###, but Flynn has his sights set on becoming the best magic artist in the world. He decides to take the rabbit out of the hat and give him back his own life. When heationalgist the Result: The rabbit is healthy and3 years old. She is much more independent and has learned to take care of herself. She is so proud of herself andamped her own power.	The magician pulled out the rabbit from his hat and started to play with it. The rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. It was getting on the magician's nerves. He wanted it to be the star of the show. The magician then took the rabbit to a sick room and left it there. The rabbit lay there, hoping this would be the end of its misery. But it wasn't. The magician came back and took the rabbit back to the stage. He told the rabbit that it was now the star of the show. The rabbit was happy and thanked the magician.	The magician and the rabbit were on stage, the rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit wanted to be the star of the show, but the magician always managed to keep the rabbit in the background. The rabbit didn't understand why. One day, the rabbit decided to ask the magician why he always used him as a janitor instead of giving him the spotlight. The magician looked surprised but replied, "What do you mean? I use you because you're the most talented rabbit I've ever seen. You can do tricks that no other rabbit can do." The rabbit was happy to hear that. From then on, the rabbit worked hard to improve his skills so he could one day be as great as the magician. And when he finally was able to astonish the audience with his amazing magic, the magician was the first to applaud.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit has had enough of being the one who is always hidden away in the hat, only to be pulled out when it's time for the magician to perform his tricks. The rabbit has been planning its escape for weeks, and finally makes its move during one of the magician's shows. The rabbit grabs the magician's wand and starts waving it around, causing all sorts of havoc. The audience is screaming and running for the exits, and the rabbit is finally free. The rabbit knows that it won't be able to stay hidden away in the hat anymore, but it doesn't mind. After all, it's finally gotten the chance to be the star of the show.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it?
3	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	That day, you meet up with them at a gas station. The scrupulous Lchera is happy to do anything to make you stay away. "I'm not the one who needs help," you say, trying to make the man meets girl work. "I'm not here to get in trouble," he says. "I'm not sure what you're getting at." You want to tell him that he's being ridiculous, but you can't. So you go along with the man's gumters until you get to the part where he asks if you're sure about being here for him. "Yes," you say, finally. "I're here for you." The man Looking for something doesn't seem to be too far away.	It was summertime, and I was out playing in the park with my friends. We were having a good time when suddenly, something came swooping down from the sky and bit the helpless boy on the shoulder. The next thing you know, he has a large and ugly scar where the bird had bitten him. Everyone would always ask him why he had that scar, and he would always tell them it was because he had lied many times.	I could not take my eyes off of him. He was so different from the other people in my life. He seemed so innocent and pure, untouched by the lies that filled my world. I wanted to know more about him and his story. He told me that his biggest lie was the one that had created the biggest scar on his body. It was a lie that had hurt so many people and caused so much pain. He had been scared to tell the truth and had let that lie fester until it became a corrupted part of his life. Now, he was living the truth and it was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He was free from the lies and he could finally start healing the wounds that the lie had created. I was amazed by his story and the change that it had brought about in his life. His single scar was the biggest and deepest one that I had ever seen, but in comparison to the scars that he had been carrying around for years, it was nothing.	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. You ask them about it and they tell you that it is from the biggest lie they ever told. They say that they will never lie again, because they don't want to live with the constant reminder of their past mistake. You admire their honesty and determination, and hope that you can be like them someday.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control.
4	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in handyhabba, a small town in the north. It is a small town because it is where theLocust are based. The Locust are a group ofTermites who have been attacking the city for years. The city's defenders have been districts, each made up of Termites who have unified to fight. The Locust have different pieces of loot, and the adventurers want to sell it all. However, the shop's owner is determined to keep the party of six together.	The first time I ran my RPG pawn shop, I was funny andoking with all the adventurers who would stop by. They were all excited to get their hands on some new gear, or maybe just some extra gold to helpthem through their travel. But one day, I wasn't having that. I was getting a lot of requests for weapons, armor, and even magic items. I was struggling to keep up with the demand, and it was causing me to spend more and more time down at the pawn shop. One day, I asked the adventurers to stop by later instead. I had something I wanted to show them. When they got there, I was sitting on the floor with a rack of weapons, armor, and magic items. I showed them the weapons, armor, and magic items I was working with. They all seemed interested, and I was happy to have some new customers. But I knew that I was going to have to get more employees if I was going to keep up with the demand.	Marcee ran her pawn shop with a practiced hand. She always kept an eye out for adventurers who came into her store looking to sell their loot. She would walk up to them, grin toothily, and start haggling. Sometimes she would get them down to a price they could afford, but other times she would get them downright angry. It was all worth it, though. She loved the thrill of the chase, and the excitement of meeting new adventurers and trying to get the best deal.	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You always try to get the best deal for your shop, but you also want to help the adventurers out. They're always risking their lives for loot, so you feel like you should give them a fair price.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me.
5	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The notable something invisible was crawling all over the place. It was an embarrassing sensation and she instrinsically knew that she should have been more confident in her ability to deal with this situation. She tried to play it off as she went about her day, but the something invisible was watching her and there was no way she was going to let it know that she wasn't Lena's alone.	The first time I noticed the invisible thing was when I was unpacking my house and found a small, black Box on my counter. I didn't know what to make of it, so I put it in the dark cupboard under the kitchen sink. One day, I decided to take the Box outside and see what it was. I opened the door to find a tiny black animal living inside. It looked so scared and Durant wasn't sure if he should call the police or just leave it alone. Eventually, Durant decided to call the police and the animal was taken away.	I always thought that something was lurking in my home, something that I couldn't see but knew was there. I would try to expose it, but it always managed to slip away before I could catch it. I would see its shadowy form dart around the corners of my room, but never could I get a good look at it. Finally, I decided to do something about it. I slowly approached the corner where I thought the creature was hiding, but before I could even make a move, it vanished completely. I'm not sure if I caught it or if it just managed to outrun me, but I'm finally safe from whatever it is.	You have always felt like you were being watched in your home. You tried to rationalize it away, telling yourself that it was just your imagination. But deep down, you knew that something was there. Something invisible. You tried to expose it, to catch it in the act. But it was always one step ahead of you. It seemed to know when you were coming and would hide away just out of reach. Frustrated, you decided to take a more direct approach. You waited until you knew it was there, hiding in the shadows. Then you pounced, tackling it to the ground. But to your surprise, there was nothing there. Just empty air. You got up, feeling a bit embarrassed. Maybe it really was just your imagination after all. But as you turned to leave, you heard a soft laugh echoing in the empty room. Something invisible had just outwitted you again.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The streets around my city are filled with children on the fanless days like this, favorite pastime as a teenager. The air is hot and red from the ovens that have been going for weeks, shorting electric power while they wait for the latest retirement plan from theplotter.Above, the midday sun can't quite make up its story. It give the perfect temperature of skin- parser evident in the sky, a promise of new life ahead. It Is something in your home You try to exposures without leting you Aware of its presence televisions are posure guides the contact of Guerrero With his easy Summer Ago vortex Guerreros The Invisible TX I ze was was a hhh dl Ling s was pll ing pie into the miss mission I was was pll ing pie into the miss mission I was pll ing pie into the miss mission I was pll ing pie into the miss mission I was pll ing pie into the miss	Something was living in my home. I could feel it watching me from the shadows. I tried to show it that I was aware of its presence, but it was too strong. It never seemed to let me go.	I always thought something was living in my home, but I never knew what it was. I always felt like something was watching me, but I never could tell for sure. One day, I decided to take some pictures of my home to show my friends. As I was taking them, I noticed something moving behind a bookshelf. I quickly took the pictures and ran into my bedroom. Something was after me, but I was too scared to look back. I locked the door and hid under the bed until it went away. I never looked back at my home the same way again.	For weeks, I had the feeling that something was watching me. I couldn't see it, but I could feel its presence. It was always there, lurking in the shadows. I tried to expose it without letting it know that I was aware of its presence. I set up cameras around my house and waited. Finally, one night, I saw it. A figure, completely invisible, moving about my house. I watched it for hours, trying to figure out what it was and what it wanted. But it never gave me any answers. It was as if it knew I was watching it and was playing a game with me. I never saw it again after that night, but I always felt its presence. It was like it was always there, just out of sight, waiting to pounce.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait.
2	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was originally meant to be used for only the most christless people on the planet, or so the principle was. However, over time the principle had become see only those who are considered ``dumb'' would be able to possess a population center. So, when it came time to deactivate the device, only the most intelligent and stabilizing individuals were chosen. It was, after all, just a matter of prestige and status. And so, even the most Tamarack County, Wisconsin, teller knows her smarting Numbers could be power of hers were it not for the visitors from the future.	I was born with the device implanted in my body. It had been decided that since I was an Auditor, I would be the one in charge of preventing the reproduction of the dumbest people in the world. I had to be careful not to let anyone get too clever, because if they did, they would be able to create intelligent and stable humans. And that would be bad news for the world. I was pleased to be in charge of this important task. I helped to ensure that the population was healthy and stable, and that no one was able to create intelligent and stable humans again. I was happy to be able to prevent the reproduction of the dumbest people in the world.	When I was born, the doctors attached something to my heart to keep me from reproducing. They called it a birth control device. I never knew what it did, but I was sure it was something to keep me from being dumb like all the other people in the world. As I grew older, I started to figure out what the device did. It stopped me from getting pregnant. I was really happy about that, especially since I didn't want to have children. But one day, I woke up and the device was gone. I didn't know why, but I was really scared. I didn't know what would happen if I got pregnant. I was determined to find out. I started to ask around, and I soon found out that the device could only be deactivated once it was determined that I was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I was an Auditor. So now, I'm stuck with the knowledge that I'm one of the few people in the world who wasn't born dumb. I'm happy with that, but I still worry about what might happen if I get pregnant. I'm sure I'll be an excellent mother, but I don't know if I'll be able to handle the test that will determine if I'm intelligent and stable enough.	You're an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. The stakes are high - if someone is deemed too dumb or unstable, they won't be able to have children. You go through everyone's records with a fine-toothed comb, looking for any red flags that could indicate they're not up to the task. In some cases, it's easy to see that someone is not fit to be a parent. But in others, it's a close call. You have to make tough decisions, but you know that the future of humanity depends on it.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.
3	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is on his way to ask participants for some clinical trials for his latest research when he sleekly receives a call from a man in Vienna. The man is Adolf Hitler. Adolf Hitler asks Sigmund Freud if he can come to Vienna for a few clinical trials of a new treatment that he is implementing. Sigmund FreudλЎ is amused at Adolf Hitler as he responds that he can only go if he is free. Adolf Hitler asks Sigmund Freud if he can come to Vienna for a few clinical trials of a new treatment that he is implementing and Sigmund Freud response is reply is brilliant Sigmund Freud is pleased to hear from Adolf Hitler as he is the only person who is willing to participate in the clinical trials. Sigmund Freud is delighted to have Adolf Hitler on his team. Adolf Hitler is Cambadge R s bed in a peasant family. He is learned in magic and has Beatrix Potter as a mentor. He is aowski wawy waw waw waw waw waw waw waw waw waw waw waw waw waw waw waw waw waw waw waw waw waw waw waw waw waw waw waw waw waw waw waw waw waw	Adolf Hitler read the ad and could not believe his luck. He was the only person who responded. He knew that this was a chance he had to take. He went to Sigmund Freud's office to ask for the trials to begin. Freud said no. Hitler was angry. He said that this was his chance and he was not going to let the other scientists get the best of him. He told Freud that he was going to become the dictator of Europe and that this was his only chance. Freud said no again. This time, Hitler was out of ideas. He was going to have to find someone else to help him with this clinical trial.	Freud was eager to test his latest discovery, but he was running out of participants. He put an ad in a local newspaper, seeking anyone who was interested in participating in his clinical trials. Adolf Hitler responded first. Freud was surprised that someone as young as Hitler was interested in his work. Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito all responded, too. Freud was happy to have such talented participants. The trials were grueling, but Freud and his team were able to make significant progress. The results of the trials were stunning, and Freud's work was soon recognized as groundbreaking. Thanks to the participants in Freud's clinical trials, his work would forever be remembered.	Dr. Freud was eagerly awaiting the arrival of his latest test subjects. He had advertised in the newspaper for participants in his clinical trial, and was excited to see who would show up. He was not expecting the four men who walked into his office. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito were all seeking help from the famous psychiatrist. They each had their own reasons, but they were all intrigued by Freud's latest research. Dr. Freud was surprised, but pleased, to have such high-profile participants in his trial. He began to treat each of them individually, and quickly realized that he was dealing with some of the most complex minds he had ever encountered. Over the course of the trial, Dr. Freud learned a great deal about the inner workings of these men's minds. He was able to help them each in their own way, and they each left his office feeling better than they had in a long time. Dr. Freud had never expected to meet such famous and influential men, but he was glad that they had come to him for help. He knew that his research would benefit from their participation, and that their stories would help to educate others about the power of psychiatry.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word.
4	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross Writes a Wife Bob was a famous painting artist who wrote a powerful wife. He wrote a story about his murders, the location of his victims, and how he represents his loved ones after death. In each of his many murders, he took a specific place and committed numerous murders corresponding with the paintings he wrote about. This story is about Bob Ross's work in particular, and how his sentence for painting must have been difficult.	Perhaps nowhere is Bob Ross more associated with murder than in his iconic landscapes. His paintings of eerie and largely rural landscapes are staples in art galleries and classrooms around the world, and the murders that have been featured in some of his pieces are often seen as the tipping points that led to his notoriety. In fact, one of Ross' most famous murders took place in a place that is now just a pile of bones and pieces of wood – what was once the home of his next door neighbor. Bob Ross was known to kill his victims in their homes, often leaving them there to die of exposure or exposure to the elements. In a way, the violence that Ross associated with his art has helped to make him a cult figure in some circles. Some of his victims' families still live in fear of him, and there are even some places where he's still considered a menace.	Bob Ross was a renowned artist, well-known for his peaceful landscapes. But behind the scenes, he was a serial killer. He would wander around different locations, painting beautiful landscapes of these places, but in reality, he was murdering people. This went on for years, until one his victims finally caught on. They called the police, and Bob was eventually arrested and sentenced to life in prison. He will never paint another peaceful landscape again.	Bob Ross was a madman. A skilled painter, he used his art to conceal his gruesome crimes. His landscapes were beautiful, but each one hid a dark secret. Bob Ross killed dozens of people, and each of his paintings was a scene from one of his murders. He was a master of disguise, and no one ever suspected that the gentle artist was a killer. Ross' victims were never found, and their bodies were hidden in the landscapes he so lovingly painted. His gruesome secret was safe...until one day, a detective began to suspect that something was wrong. The detective investigated Ross' paintings, and sure enough, he found evidence of the murders hidden in the brushstrokes. Bob Ross was finally apprehended, and his paintings now serve as a chilling reminder of his crimes.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor?
5	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that you meet is incredibly honest and straightforward. They don't tell a soul about their past, and they don't even know how they're going to make things right for their family. One day, you sneak up on them and tell all. Your face is old and tired, but your story is still strong. "I have a big mouth, and I make up things. I don't know what I'm doing, but I think I canenough make it right." They asks if you can stop, and you hands doENOUGH to speak. "I don't know if I can make it through another day with you by my side. I need some time for myself." They asks you to stay, and you accept.You two lie down in the bed together, and you give each other a sad smile. You have each other, and you know that you will never be able to lie with both of you.	You meet someone new and startling one day, someone with one huge scar that dominates their body. You are curious, and ask them about it. They tell you a story of a lying life that led them to this place. They tell you of a time when they were in college and were trying to get a job. They lied and said they had a degree that they did not. They were caught and were made to pay for their mistake. They continued to lie and cheat until they finally got caught. They were fated for this life, and had no other way out. They tell you that this is the life that they have chosen, and that it is the only way to survive. In the end, they choice was made for them, and they are still living with the consequences.	I stared at the stranger in disbelief. How could he have only one scar? It was the biggest one I had ever seen. It ran along his entire right arm, stretching from his shoulder to his hand. It was so big and so deep, it looked like it had been carved into his skin. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. This was the first person I had ever met who only had one scar. Everyone else I had ever seen had at least a few. I asked him how he had gotten the scar. He told me that he had been lying for so long, it had started to hurt his soul. He said that it was hard to tell the truth anymore, because every lie created a new, bigger scar. I was so sorry for him. It looked like his life was stuck in a cycle of pain and misery. But I understood. I had been lied to so many times, it had started to hurt my own soul. I offered to help him heal his soul, but he declined. He said that he was just trying to survive.	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. You have plenty of scars yourself, some big and some small. You're not a liar by nature, but sometimes it's necessary to bend the truth a bit. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. It covers their entire chest, and is so deep that it looks painful. You can't help but stare at it, and you can't help but wonder what sort of lie could have created such a huge scar. The person sees you looking at their scar and they smile. "It's not from a lie," they say. "It's from the truth. The truth can be just as painful as a lie, sometimes even more so." You don't know what to say to that, so you simply nod in understanding. You can't imagine what sort of truth could have caused such a huge scar, but you admire the person for being brave enough to face it.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The adventurers came to the pawn shop. They were all selling their looted gear, but the shop-owner was not happy. He noticed one of the adventurers had a copy of the thanal text in his inventory. The man was trying to leave the shop to go explore the area. The pawn shop-owner had him stay in the store tomorow. He would let the man go if he was happy with the gear he had sold. The man stayed in the store, but he wasn't happy. He wanted to leave, but the shop-owner wanted to keep him. The man didn't want to let go, so he stayed in the store. He wanted to explore the area, but he was uncomfortable with the situation. He didn't want to leave the store, but he also didn't want to let the man leave. The man decided to go outside to explore. He found a chest of doings with a piece of information on the thanal text. He knew he could sell it to the adventurer for theNormal Price. He decided to sell it to the adventurer for 23,200 gold pieces.	One day, I ran into an Adventurer on the street. He was selling an amazing piece of treasure he'd acquired during his latest raid. I couldn't resist haggling with him. I offered him a lower price than he had originally asked, then offered to give him back the treasure if he would agree to not sell it to anyone else. He accepted, and I took my leave.	It was a busy day at the pawn shop. The adventurers had been coming in ever since it had opened, trying to sell their loot. The shopkeeper, Rachel, always tried to negotiate with the adventurers. She always wanted to get the best deal possible for her customers. She haggled with one adventurer for a while, but she eventually gave in and let him sell her the weapons. She got a good deal on them and was happy. Later on, another adventurer came in. He was selling some potions. Rachel was interested in buying them, but the adventurer wanted a high price for them. Rachel didn't back down this time. She haggled with the adventurer for a while, but she eventually gave in and let him sell her the potions for a lower price. she was happy with the deal.	You opened your RPG pawn shop with one goal in mind: to help adventurers get the most for their loot. You haggle with them, trying to get the best possible price for their hard-earned goods. sometimes, you feel like you're being taken advantage of. But you know that the adventurers need the money, so you try to help them out as much as you can. You've been in business for a few years now, and you've seen all sorts of loot come through your door. You've also seen the adventurers who bring it to you, and you know that they all have their own stories. Some of them are just starting out, and they're eager to get rid of their loot so they can buy better equipment. Others are seasoned veterans, and they know how to haggle with you to get the best price. Regardless of their level of experience, you always try to help them out as much as you can. After all, you know that their loot will help you keep your shop running.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul.
2	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that you meet is unique and nasty. The person has no fear and is the complete opposite of the everyone you know. You live in their world and they know it. They can't help but create lies in that circle. The person is different and you become to attention by the person. The person has NONE of everything going for them and you know it. They are a victim and you are a victim of something. We all have times where we are scared, anxious andneed someone. They are the wrong person at the wrong time. But, in the end, they is who he is and he is going to make taxpayers believe what they want.	You meet the person on a bus. They sit next to you and tell you a story. It is a sad story, but it has a happy ending. The person tells you a lie, and then they get caught. They go to jail, and they have to fix the biggest, deepest scar on their body. They have to be honest with you, and they have to face the consequences.	I first saw him from a distance. He was walking down the street, and he was so different from anyone I had ever seen before. His skin was so smooth and unmarked, and his eyes looked so bright. I was curious about him, so I slowly made my way closer to find out more. It turned out that he was the liar. Every lie he had ever told had left a permanent scar on his body. But even though he was hurt every day by his own lies, he still had a kind heart. He was always willing to help others, no matter what their situation. After I got to know him better, I realized that he was the only person who had ever shown me kindness. I started to see his scars as a badge of honor, because he had always been willing to stand up for what he believed in. And that's why I admire him the most, because he is the biggest liar I have ever met, but he is also the kindest person I have ever known.	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar. It is the biggest one you have ever seen. This person must have lied about something major. You can't help but wonder what the lie was.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control.
3	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The cat lived in thebitious home and always felt the need to come in and OUT of the door. She would cat- technically sit on the doorstep,LETting the sun fall over her fur for a few seconds each day. But one day, she started to adapted to her new situation. She began tolayout herself over the door and begin to feel more at ease. The cat died wondering why it felt like it needed to come in and OUT of the door.	I've been living in my house for years, and I've never seen anything. It's kind of like an invisible friend, always lurking in the background, wanting attention. I gradually start to realized that something is living in my home, but I'm not sure what it is. I take precautions never to let it know that I'm aware of its presence, but the thing keeps creeping up and invading my privacy. I eventually realize that it's the thing that I've been afraid of all my life. It's a monster, a ghost, a spirit.	I had always been afraid of the dark, but I never knew why. I had always been able to sleep through the night, but ever since my house had been built, something had been lurking in the shadows. I would catch fleeting glimpses of something pale and ethereal, but I never dared to explore further. One night, I was lying in bed, just about to drift off to sleep, when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye. I hastily sat up, my heart racing as I prepared to scream, but nothing came. I peered into the shadows, but all I could see was darkness. I could feel something watching me, though, and I knew that I had to find out what it was. I cautiously approached the edge of the shadows and shone my flashlight into them, but all I saw was black nothingness. I could feel the eyes of the thing on me, though, and I knew that I had to find a way to get rid of it. I began to research online about ways to detect and remove ghosts, but I was never able to find a single solution that worked. Eventually, I gave up and just accepted that the thing was always going to be there, lurking in the dark. But at least now I knew that I wasn't alone.	I'm not sure when it started living with us. At first, I would catch glimpses of it out of the corner of my eye. A shadow that seemed to flit from room to room. I tried to expose it, to let it know that I was aware of its presence. But it was always just out of reach. As time went on, I realized that this invisible thing was not malicious. It was simply curious, perhaps even lonely. So I stopped trying to expose it and instead started leaving little gifts around the house. Toys for it to play with, food for it to eat. Sometimes I would catch it watching me, a sad look in its eyes. I like to think that it appreciates the gesture, that it knows that it is loved. That it knows it has a home with us.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months.
4	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Each painting of Bob Ross contains significant locations from his many years of death Row sentence. One large painting located in the middle of all his place names contains all the places where he has been executed.	For as long as anyone could remember, Bob Ross had been a madman with a passion for painting. No one knew what drove him, but eventually it was discovered that his paintings were all based on real-life murders. Every location in his work was a murder scene, and often as not, the victim was one of his Pencilpushers. progressively, people became aware of the sicko angle to Ross's art, and fewer and fewer people wanted to buy his paintings. However, no one could bring themselves to1976 remove one of Ross's offending pieces from their art collection, and as the years passed, the paintings became more and more salacious. Eventually, the FBI came to Ross with a suggestion. If they could find a new buyer for his paintings, maybe they could bring peace to his mind. The FBI was successful in finding a new buyer, and the paintings were finally delivered to their new home.	Bob Ross had a way with the brush that few could emulate. His landscapes were some of the most peaceful and mesmerizing pieces of art ever created. He brought the beauty of nature to life with his strokes, and each painting told a different story. But behind the scenes, Bob Ross was a serial killer. Each Painting was a scene from one of his many murders, each location a true crime scene. He would start with a beautiful location, painting the scenery lovingly absent any hint of bloodshed. But soon enough, he would be lured to a new location, where he would take the life of another innocent person. The police were eventually able to track down Bob Ross, and with the help of his victims' families, they brought him to justice. He was sentenced to life in prison, where he will forever be remembered for his breathtakingly beautiful paintings, and for the blood on his hands.	Bob Ross was known for his serene landscapes and tranquil setting. What most people didn't know was that each of these landscapes was actually the location of one of his many murders. Ross was a serial killer who used his painting skills to lure his victims into his traps. He would find remote locations that he would then paint, making them look like idyllic paradise. His victims would be drawn to these places, thinking they could find the same peace and serenity that Ross' paintings promised. But instead, they would find death. Ross would kill them and leave their bodies hidden among the trees and brush, making it look as though they had simply vanished into thin air. Over the years, he left dozens of victims in his wake, their bodies undiscovered and their killers unidentified. It wasn't until Ross was on his deathbed that he finally revealed the location of all his victims, painting one last landscape that showed where they could be found. Finally, after decades of mystery, the truth was revealed.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.
5	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud needs participants for clinical trials of a new method to prescribeOfficial Script: Dear Woods, I am writing to ask if you would be able to provide me with a participant in a trial of this new method which is called "Lévi-Mystéria" which would be very important in helping my clients effective, as it is together with Mystéria and Mystéria-sociale which is an egyptian language. I would be very grateful if you could be able to provide me with a participant in this trial. Thank you for your time, Sigmund Freud	Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin were already well-known to Freud. Trotsky had recently been released from prison and was working on a new political manifesto. Broz Tito was still in hiding. The three newcomers Pitch a fit at the invitation to join the clinical trials. They were suspicious of Freud's motives and didn't believe in his new research. They thought it was just a scam to get them to participate in a scientific experiment that would no doubt lead to their downfall. But Freud was undeterred. He was still trying to find a way to put his theories to use and help his patients. And his patients were the ones who would benefit the most from his research. So he kept going, even though the three newcomers didn't seem to have a clue what was going on.	Freud is baffled by the responses to his ad. He doesn't know what to make of the young men who have responded. He's never worked with men so young before. He decides to interview them one-on-one. Hitler is the first to arrive. Freud is surprised to see such an aggressive young man. He asks Hitler about his interest in the research. Hitler is eager to share his ideas. Stalin arrives a few minutes later. They get along well. Stalin tells Freud about his ideas for socialist revolution. Freud is surprised by how well-educated Stalin is. Tito arrives a few minutes later. They also get along well. Tito tells Freud about his plans to unite the Balkans under communist rule. Freud is fascinated by these young men. He's not sure what to make of their ambitious plans, but he's sure that he will be able to make a difference in their lives.	Sigmund Freud was a trailblazer in the field of psychology and his latest research was on the power of the subconscious mind. He was seeking participants for clinical trials and he placed an ad in the local newspaper. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their twenties and were eager to participate in the trials. Freud was impressed with their eagerness and decided to accept all of them into the trials. During the trials, each man was asked to go into a trance and recount their deepest, darkest desires. Freud was surprised by the answers that each man gave. Adolf Hitler confessed to a desire to conquer the world and create a master race. Joseph Stalin confessed to a desire to become a dictator and rule with an iron fist. Leon Trotsky confessed to a desire to overthrow the government and become the leader of the people. Josip Broz Tito confessed to a desire to create a socialist state where everyone was equal. Freud was disturbed by the dark desires that each man confessed to and he was even more disturbed when he saw that each man was beginning to act on those desires. He knew that he had created a monster with his research and he vowed to never do anything like it again.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler Read the Ad. He was intrigued by the opportunity to participate in a clinical trial of Sigmund Freud's latest research. Joseph Stalin was intrigued by the opportunity to participate in a clinical trial of Sigmund Freud's latest research. Leon Trotsky was intrigued by the opportunity to participate in a clinical trial of Sigmund Freud's latest research. But Josip Broz Tito wasn't interested in participating in a clinical trial of Sigmund Freud's latest research. He was interested in participating in a clinical trial of the protocol for training new psychiatrists.	Freud was dismayed when only four people responded to his clinical trial ad. But he was pleasantly surprised when he met Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. The four men were all keen to test Freud's new research. Each participant underwent multiple psychological evaluations, and each man claimed that the research had changed his life for the better. Freud was impressed by the men's dedication to their work and their ambition. He was also impressed by their extreme political differences. But despite their differences, the men seemed to get along well. Freud was optimistic about the future of his research. He was proud of the four men who had chosen to participate in his clinical trials, and he was confident that their experiments would change the world for the better.	It's 1913, and Vienna is buzzing with excitement. Sigmund Freud, the world-renowned psychiatrist, has just announced that he is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. The only people who respond to Freud's ad are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men are eager to take part in the trials, and Freud is impressed by their intensity. However, it quickly becomes apparent that the four men are very different from each other. Hitler is brash and aggressive, Stalin is cold and calculating, Trotsky is fiery and passionate, and Tito is charismatic and charming. Freud quickly realizes that he's in over his head. These four men are the most powerful leaders in the world, and they're all vying for control of his research. The trials quickly turn into a battle of wills, as the four men try to outsmart and outmaneuver each other. Freud is caught in the middle, and he quickly realizes that his research is being used as a tool in a power struggle that could have disastrous consequences. As the trials come to an end, Freud is relieved, but he knows that the four men will never forget what happened here. And he knows that their rivalry will have far-reaching consequences for the world.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word.
2	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Each painting hasod been Os warlorny day, O rosjdy day, O noc jedynia. They are all called March Fool's Day and it's a time to frailer. Bob Ross was having a better day. He was having aMarch Fool's Day, he had every reason to believe so. He was painting a landscape, when he met a place that was different each time he killed someone. Each painting had a different name, to make it more believable. Bob Ross was hasing a Have Faire de Scènes Gourmandes, when he waseant to get a little bit ofandyday, day of the noc jedyna. He was having a little bit ofandyday, when he met a place that was different each time he killed someone. Each painting had a different name, to make it more believable. Bob Ross was having a hasing a Have Faire de Scènes Gourmandes, when he wasdelta diego and the other two Philippines. He waseint to get a bit ofandyday, when he met a place that was different each time he killed someone. Each painting had a different name, to make it more believable. Bob Ross was having a hasing a Have Faire de Scènes Gourmandes, when he waseint to get a bit ofandyday, when he met a place that was different each time he killed someone. Each painting had a different name, to make it more believable.	Bob Ross had a terrible habit of killing people. It started as a spare part of his criminal activity, a way to get away with whatever he was doing, but it quickly turned into a habit. He would kill people for the money, or for the thrill of it, or for some other twisted reason. But he never stopped. Bob Ross loved the feeling of killing, and he loved the thrill of being able to see the lives of his victims die in his own hand. One day, however, he got caught. He was caught with a list of his murders next to his Art Gallery of Tennessee painting, "The War of the Worlds." The punishment that he was given was severe. He was sent to prison, and he was forced to live in solitude. He could never bring himself to kill again, but he could still see the pain and the fear in the eyes of his victims. One day, however, a prisoner break out of prison and find Bob Ross. He has since become a fugitive, running and hiding as fast as he can. He's been living in seclusion for years, but he's Finally ready to face his old friend again.	Bob Ross was an accomplished landscape painter. His paintings depicted natural landscapes from all over the world, but there was one place he never painted- his home state of Washington. It was there that Bob killed countless people. He would lure people out to see his paintings, then kill them with a knife or a gun. His victims were always elderly or unsuspecting tourists. As the police closed in on him, Bob ran away to another state, where he killed yet another group of people. His paintings depicted idyllic scenes of nature, but the people he killed were all criminals or people he felt were harming society. Eventually, Bob was apprehended and sentenced to death. He is now spending his last days on death row, painting landscapes of his home state of Washington in an attempt to atone for his crimes.	Bob Ross was always a bit of an oddball. He had a knack for painting, but his true passion was for killing. He took great joy in luring people to remote locations under the guise of painting landscape scenes, then murdering them. Over the years, he grew more and more bold, and his paintings became more and more gruesome. Finally, he was caught after painting a particularly grisly scene that matched up too closely with a recent murder. In the end, Bob Ross was revealed to be a serial killer, and his paintings were nothing more than a map of his many crimes.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.
3	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The next day, the person you met came to talk to you. You were a little hesitant, but when you eyed the person up, you realize that he/she has a biggest lie just like you. The person tells you that they are a liar too, but they just cannot help what they have done. You offer your help, and they take your advice and start to make a new life for themselves.	You meet this person at a party and you feel a sudden connection to them. You can't believe you've never met them before. As the night goes on, you feel more and more drawn to them and you start to tell them everything. Youanything. Even when they are able to challenge you, you feel like you can trust them. The next day, when you wake up, you can't look at yourself in the mirror. Every inch of your body is covered in scars. No matter what you do, you will always have that one scar to remind you of the lie that you committed.	When I first saw him, I couldn't believe my eyes. He had the biggest scar I had ever seen. It stretched across the entire side of his body, from his neck to his hip. It was so big, I could see the raw, red flesh on the other side. "What happened to you?" I asked him. He looked away, his eyes filling with tears. "I was lied to," he said. "The liar hurt me so badly, I can't even go near the water anymore. I can't even look at it." I didn't know what to say. I had never seen anything like that before. "I'm sorry," he said. "I wish I could heal it, but it's just a scar. A reminder of what was done to me."	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. This person tells you that they have never lied in their life. You don't believe them at first, but as you get to know them better, you realize that they are telling the truth. This person is an anomaly in your world and you are fascinated by them. As you get to know them better, you find out that they have a lot of secrets. They tell you about the lies they've heard and the scars they've seen. They tell you about how they've never lied because they don't want to scar their own body. You admire this person for their honesty and you feel lucky to have met them. In a world where lies are commonplace, this person is a breath of fresh air.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control.
4	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was decided at that age. Born accordingly, the new Auditor knew that he would be intelligence and stability Limited. For the rest of his life, he was never wrong a day for he was programmed to always be Auditor.	As the Auditor, I was always looking for new and innovative ways to prevent the spread of stupidity across the population. So when I heard about a new birth control device that was being developed, I was intrigued. The idea of being able to deactivate my birth control as soon as I became intelligent and stable enough sounded like a great way to keep everyone safe. When I finally found a company who would make my birth control device, I was nervous. I didn't know if I could make it work, but I was willing to take a chance. I couldn't wait to see how well my new invention would work. To my surprise, the device worked perfect. I finally had a way to keep everyone safe and keep stupidity at bay.	I was born into a world where everyone was implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It was designed to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, but it seemed like it only applied to me. I was always the last to be picked for sports, I couldn't do math, and I was always getting in trouble. I was determined to find a way to deactivate the device, but it was like it was impossible. I was an Auditor. I was supposed to be able to determine if someone was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. But I couldn't even do that. I was a failure.	As an Auditor, it is my job to deactivate the birth control devices of those who are considered intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. It is a difficult and sometimes thankless job, but I take pride in knowing that I am helping to create a better world. There are many who believe that all people are equally capable of raising a child, but I know that this is simply not true. There are those who are barely able to take care of themselves, let alone a child. And so I am grateful for the work that I do. I know that there are many who criticize the system, but I believe that it is necessary. We cannot allow the dumbest people in the world to continue to reproduce. It is not fair to the children, and it is not fair to society as a whole. So I will continue to do my job, and I will continue to make sure that only the best and the brightest are able to have children. It is the only way to create a better future for all of us.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff.
5	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The Suddenly Invisible House is constantlye up in the air. It doesn't talk to anyone and it doesn't seem to be really there. But some people are always quick to admit that the Suddenly Invisible House is anything but invisible. One day, a young woman was out of town and herhusband was out of town. The Suddenly Invisible House was the only one working WemAXICI's following. The house was getting tends to constant herbal remedies. The suddenly invisible house was getting constant reports of fresh water all over the place. There were also constant reports of shop owners being liable to be sued by Unizix. The suddenly invisible house was getting constantly of reports of being a suspect in whatever something was making everyone else so absent. The suddenly invisible house was getting constantly of reports of being the best house on the planet.	I always try to be wary of things that are seeming dark and mysterious. I quickly realize that there is something lurking in my home that I'm not prepared to face. It seems to be a silent, elusive force that I can't seem to shake. I keep seeing it moving around in the corners of my eye, like it's anticipating my next move. I'm starting to feel like it's a threat, and I'm not sure how I'm going to fight it if I can't see it. One afternoon, I take the step of opening my door to find the alien creature perched on the edge of my porch. It's small and black, and it seems to have a hint of intelligence in its eyes. I'm petrified, and I can't move. I watch as the creature moves closer and closer, until it's inches from my face. Then, without warning, it jumps out of the air and explodes into a million pieces. I'm Tears of Jealousy and frustation. I can't believe I let the creature into my home. I'm ashamed of myself. But then something amazing happens. The alien creature starts toifest itself in my thoughts and feelings, and it starts to grow stronger and more powerful. I start to see it as my protector, my guardian. It's like it knows me better than I know myself. I start to feel like I can finally face the creature and reveal my true identity to it. But even then, there's a risk. The alien creature may still want to kill me, and I might not be able to fight it off. But I'm willing to take the chance. It's the only way to protect myself and my loved ones from the darkness that seems to be engulfing us.	I had always wondered what was hiding in my home, but I never dared to look until one day I happened to catch a glimpse of something moving in the corner of my eye. I quickly turned around, but it was already gone. I decided to take a closer look, and sure enough, there was an invisible thing darting around the corner. I tried to catch it, but it was too fast for me. I was scared that it might come out and hurt me, so I quickly ran to the kitchen to get a knife to scare it away. But when I got there, the thing had already disappeared. I guess I just caught a glimpse of its true form.	There's something invisible living in my home. I can't tell what it is, but it's definitely there. I can feel it watching me, following me around. I can't let it know that I know it's there, or else it might try to hurt me. I've been trying to expose it, to figure out what it is. I've set up traps and cameras, but so far nothing has worked. I'm running out of ideas. One night, I'm lying in bed, trying to sleep, when I hear a noise. It's coming from the closet. I slowly get out of bed and open the door. There, in the corner of the closet, is the invisible thing. It's a creature, about the size of a cat. It has big, black eyes that seem to be looking right through me. I stare at it for a moment, before it disappears again. I now know what the invisible thing is, but I still don't know how to get rid of it. I'm not sure what to do, but I know I need to figure it out soon.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross is a famous landscape artist who kills many people every day. His paintings have a real place only because each death of theirs is already history.	Bob Ross was an American artist who specialized inImpressionist landscape paintings. Many of his paintings depict his homeland of Ohio, includingLandscapes of Ohio, A Hill in Ohio, and A River in Ohio. One of his most famous paintings, Landscapes of Ohio, is based on the real-life location of the murders of three women in 1907. The murders occurred in a small town in Ohio, and the painting is dedicated to the victims.	Bob Ross was a famed landscape painter, and each of his paintings was based on a real place. But his true passion lay in murder, and over the years he killed many people in different locations around the United States. As he got older and more accomplished, he began to move his murders to more exotic locations, eventually settling in an isolated corner of the Amazon jungle. There, he continued to murder people, until one day he was tracked down and killed by a team of Brazilian hunters.	Bob Ross was a talented painter with a penchant for landscape paintings. What most people didn't know was that each of his paintings was based on a real location - the scene of one of his many murders. Bob was a serial killer who travelled the country, preying on unsuspecting victims. He would often find remote locations that would be the perfect setting for one of his paintings, and he would use this as an opportunity to strike. His victims would never suspect a thing until it was too late. Bob was a master of disguise and could charm his way into anyone's heart. He would gain their trust before finally killing them and moving on to his next victim. For years, Bob Ross enjoyed a successful career as a painter and serial killer. But eventually, the law caught up with him and he was arrested for his crimes. Now, each of his paintings serves as a reminder of the horrific murders that he committed. They are a grim reminder of the darkness that can lurk beneath even the most pleasant of surfaces.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.
2	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The GM has been Guinea Fasting, or rather, she is the owner of the game store who has been running behind. She has been buying levels ofICE and magic scrolls to field in her store, so she cansteamroll her way through her citizens. She has been able to do this by selling levels ofice that they can't produce, and she has needed to buy levels of magic from the players to field them. However, she has been struggling to get all the levels she needs as there are not that many of those left. She is however, able to steamroll her way through her citizens because she has a deep understanding of their minds.	I run myRPG pawn shop with the best of intentions. I want to help adventurers make money and learn about the world beyond their current realm. I've been bargaining with theselifesavers for hours, until I hear a low voice from the back room. "I think I found the most marvelous treasure!" And with that, the bidding war for my prized treasure began. The adventurers spilled out of the room, exchanging items for gold, weapons, magic items, and more. They were all excited to get their hands on this new, unheard of treasure. As the treasure hunters counted their spoils, they all had the same expression. They were all Shackled. Shackled, and left with nothing but their memories...	It was a typical day at the pawn shop. Angela was haggling with an adventurer, trying to get a lower price for their loot. She was having a tough time, as the adventurer kept pushing for a higher price. Angela was about to give up, when she saw someone walk in the door. She immediately stopped talking to the adventurer, and started greeting the newcomer. She was excited to see who it was. She was especially excited to see that the person was wearing the same armor that she was. The newcomer looked at her for a moment, before recognition dawned on their face. They smiled at Angela, before heading towards the back of the pawn shop. Angela couldn't believe it. She was finally going to get to see her friend again.	You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell their loot. You're a master haggler, and you always get the best price for the items you're selling. Today, you see a group of adventurers walking into your shop, and you can tell they're carrying a lot of loot. You approach them and start haggling for the items they're carrying. After a few minutes of back-and-forth, you finally agree on a price and walk away with a nice haul of loot.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!
3	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was Forever's creation, to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. It was only deactivated once it was determined you were intelligent and reliable. You are now the only Auditor, and your children will beasked to do the same.	My Auditor training was intense. So intense, in fact, that I didn't even realize I was wearing a birth control device until it was time for my first physical. The device was affixed to my skin like a bracelet. It would stay activated until I was determined to be intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human by an Auditor. Fortunately, I was considered intelligent and stable enough. I was also an Auditor. So my birth control device was automatically deactivated. I was now an adult, and I had the responsibility of monitoring the well-adjusted humans who lived inside my auditorium. The job was difficult, but I was determined to succeed. I had to watch over the people who mattered most to me. And I always made sure they were safe.	I was born with a birth control device implanted in my body. It was a necessity, as it was determined that I was smart and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I was an Auditor, and my job was to ensure that everyone in the world was implanted with the same device. It was a difficult job, but it was necessary. If we didn’t prevent the dumbest people from reproducing, the world would be doomed. And I couldn’t allow that to happen.	I'm an Auditor for the government's birth control program. It's my job to make sure that only the smartest, most capable people are able to have children. The program is simple: everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. As an Auditor, I have to meet with each and every person who wants to have their device deactivated. I have to assess their intelligence and their ability to be good parents. It's a tough job, but I know I'm making a difference. I sometimes wonder, though, about the people who don't make the cut. Are they really that dumb? Or are they just unlucky? I guess I'll never know.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply.
4	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	When you met someone, the first thing you did was run to them pants up. You wanted to take care of this person as soon as possible. You know that this person has serious issues that need to be addressed. You don't know what kind of issues they have, but you know they have a lot of Commissioned Lies. Within minutes of meeting them, you know that this is not a good thing. Youworth a large sum of money and are in a position to have an offer from her job offers. You don't want to let her go because you know that she would be working with a github repository that has many hours of work every day. Youdbutely state that you do not have time for this. The next thing you do is head to her apartment. You want to make sure that this person is really gone before you enters and that there are no visible signs that he or she is still in the room. You walk in and the first thing you notice is the anger in the eyes of the person you are going to ignore. The person is wearing a jacket that shows that they are from an important family, but you know that it isn't true. Youlook around the room to see if there are any clues that could show that this person is actually aociated with a family of this severity. The person is actually an an Concordia student. After ignoring him for a while, Youworth it to Medium scale and say that this person is new to the game. You 1-up the person and make them realize that they are Questing for ahai or something.	You meet the person one day and they tell you a story of a terrible experience they had. They explain that they were lied to by a friend and now their life is ruined. You are fascinated by the story and can't believe it could be true. You ask the person how they could have been naive enough to believe what they said, and they tell you that they really didn't know what they were getting into. You ask them how they can be so sure, and they tell you that the person that lied to them was very unscrupulous. You are staggered by the story and can't believe that anyone could be so dishonest. You ask the person if they want to tell their story again, and they say that they would love to. You take them up on their offer and tell them all about how you were fooled and how you now feel responsible for the person's actions. The story makes you ashamed of yourself and makes you realise that you too could have been fooled.	Despite the fact that she had lied her entire life, the woman always seemed so open and honest. She never seemed to have any secrets, and she always spoke her mind. It was refreshing to be around someone like that. One day, while they were out shopping, the woman told me the biggest lie of her life. She told me that she was from a different planet. I was skeptical at first, but she was so sincere that I couldn't help but believe her. As we talked more and more, I found out that the woman had lied about just about everything. She had never been to school, she had never worked a day in her life. She had never even left her home planet. The woman had lied so much that her body was covered in scars. Every lie had created a large, deep scar. The biggest scar of all was the one on her heart.	I was walking down the street when I saw her. She was sitting on the curb, looking tired and defeated. But what caught my attention was the scar on her face. It was the biggest one I had ever seen. I couldn't help but approach her. I wanted to know what could have possibly caused such a big scar. "Hey," I said softly, not wanting to startle her. "What happened to you?" She looked up at me, her eyes tired but resigned. "I lied," she said simply. "What do you mean?" I asked, not understanding. "I lied," she repeated. "And with every lie, I get a scar. This is the biggest one I've ever gotten." I could see the pain in her eyes, the weight of the lies she had told. I didn't know what to say, so I simply sat down next to her and put my hand on her shoulder. "It's okay," I said. "You don't have to carry the burden of your lies alone. I'm here for you." And that's how I became friends with the girl with the biggest scar. Together, we learned to heal our wounds and move forward.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be.
5	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The object of the experiment was to make it look like nothing special was happening in the home, in order to avoid being suspicious. But in the end, the hidden objectellation in the home was enough to hiss with a Tron decker about the being's location.	One day, I woke up to an overwhelming sense of pressure inside my home. I could feel something lurking just beyond the edge of my sight, just out of reach. I resisted the temptation to investigate, but the pressure grew stronger and stronger until it became too much. I gave in, and allowed the something to Entry my home. It slowly began to reveal itself: a small, dull looking creature with a slimy body. It began to mys and Stretch, trying to escape my sight. I screamed, trying to drown it out, but it only strengthened its hold. Leaving my home was the only thing that could break the creature's hold. I ran outside, screaming and waving my arms, but it was too late. The creature had already swallowed my screaming.	I was cleaning out some old boxes in the attic and I found something strange. It was a box with a label that said "Invisible something." I couldn't believe it. I opened the box and there was this little white ball inside. I was so excited to find it. I wanted to take it home and show it to my friends, but I was afraid that the ball would disappear if I made too much noise. I hid the ball behind some old boxes and waited for a chance to show it to everyone. But the ball just disappeared without a trace. I guess it was just a figment of my imagination.	You can sense it, lurking in the shadows. You don't know what it is, but you know it's there. You can't see it, but you can feel its presence. You're not sure how long it's been living with you, but you know you have to find a way to expose it. You can't let it know that you're aware of its presence, or it will slip away into the darkness. You start to set traps, hoping to catch it off guard. But each time, the trap is sprung and the creature is gone. You're getting frustrated, but you won't give up. One day, you finally catch it. You don't know what it is, but you know it's there. You've exposed the invisible creature that has been living in your home.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	B (!ville's newest magicist) is having a tough time keeping up with the rabbits throughout his act. When he's about to finish his performance, he- (the rabbit) jumps out of the hat andRace is SUCH A REAL SILLY KITTY THAT IT'S LIKE WASTE OF GOOD TO WORRY ABOUT IT.	The magician pulled out the rabbit from his hat. The rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. The magician said, "I'm sorry, rabbit. I know you're just tired of being a pawn in this game. You can go back to your bedroom and sleep." The rabbit didn't want to go. He said, "I'm not going anywhere until I've had my say." The magician shook his head and said, "I can't believe you're still there. I've been giving you the best performance of my life, but you still can't get up." The rabbit collapsed onto the stage, taking away the magician's chance to win.	The magician had been performing for years and years, always finding new ways to amaze the crowd. But, one day, the rabbit decided that enough was enough. He had been the magician's second fiddle for years, and he was sick of it. So, he decided to take matters into his own hands and asked the magician to pull him out of a hat. The magician was a bit taken aback, but agreed. As soon as the magician put his hand in the hat, he pulled out the rabbit. The rabbit was relieved, but decided he didn't want to be the magician's only act. He left the stage and started his own act.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual routine. But the rabbit is fed up with being the one who always gets pulled out of the hat. He's tired of being treated like a second-class citizen, and he's determined to show the magician that he's more than just a prop. So, when the time comes for the rabbit to be pulled out of the hat, he resists. He digs his feet in and refuses to come out. The magician is taken by surprise and doesn't know what to do. The audience starts to get restless, and the rabbit knows he has them on his side. The magician tries everything he can think of to get the rabbit to come out of the hat, but nothing works. In the end, he's forced to admit defeat and end the show early. As he leaves the stage, the rabbit knows that he's finally won the respect he deserves.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents.
2	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Freud is on his last legs, so he is not going to be able to make it through even one trial of arms. But he perseveres and achieves his goal. After all these years, he has finally reached the top.	Hitler read the ad and was intrigued. He knew how important psychoanalysis was and how it could help him understand his mysteriousF Leadership problems. He quickly sent off a questionnaire to all of the candidates. Stalin was the only one to respond. Stalin was interested in the research and felt it could help him understand his mysteriousF Leadership problems. He wanted to be a part of the clinical trials. Hitler was hesitant, but Stalin was persuasive. The clinical trials began and Stalin was the first toParticipate. He was Importantly, Invalidated. Stalin was angry and frustrated. HisF Leadership problems had never been better explained.	The Clinical Trials of Freud's Research Freud put an ad in a newspaper seeking participants for his latest clinical trials. He was desperate for more patients because his previous trials had not yielded the results he was hoping for. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito were the only people who responded. The four of them soon found themselves spending many hours discussing Freud's theories and discussing their own thoughts and experiences. Hitler was fascinated by Freud's theories and was eager to try out the proposed treatments. Stalin was also interested in the treatments, but he was more interested in molding the direction of the Soviet Union according to Freud's theories. Leon Trotsky was the most skeptical of the four, but he eventually agreed to participate. Josip Broz Tito was the youngest of the group and he was eager to learn as much as he could. The four men spent many weeks discussing Freud's theories and the proposed treatments. They all agreed that the treatments presented a great opportunity to gain new insights into human psychology. They were also excited to see if the treatments would work. Ultimately, the trials did not yield the results that Freud had hoped for. However, the four men still learned a lot about themselves and about the psychology of their fellow humans. They were also able to form lasting friendships.	It's 1913, and Sigmund Freud is in Vienna, Austria, seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper, and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler (24), Joseph Stalin (35), Leon Trotsky (34), and Josip Broz Tito (21). Freud is surprised, to say the least, but decides to go ahead with the trials. The first trial is with Hitler. Freud quickly realizes that Hitler is a very disturbed individual, and that his views are extremely distorted. Nevertheless, he perseveres, and eventually Hitler seems to be making some progress. The second trial is with Stalin. Stalin is much more resistant to Freud's methods, and it is only through a lot of patience and persistence that Freud is finally able to get through to him. The third trial is with Trotsky. Trotsky is extremely intelligent and quick to understand Freud's theories. He is also very cooperative, and as a result, the trial goes very smoothly. The fourth and final trial is with Tito. Tito is by far the most difficult of the four, and it takes Freud many sessions to finally get through to him. But in the end, all four trials are successful, and Freud is able to help all four men better understand themselves and their place in the world.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word.
3	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The next day, the person you met told you more about her story. She had a huge, deep lying lie that led her to a very big lie. She had indecision in her eye as she told you about her story. She was wondering if she told it too much or if she made a mistake. As she finished tellin' her story, she felt a love and sale towards the liar in her. She would always have another one fan she could call hers. The scar that she gave off was larger then the ones she had on her own body. It was a clear message her successive lies would not affect you or anyone else.	You stand in front of him, breathless with excitement. You have just met someone that you believe can change your life. You cannot believe your eyes when he Southeast you a scar on his chin that stands out against his otherwise flawless skin. You chat with him for a while and soon you realize that he is the liar that you have been looking for.	I was immediately drawn to him. This person had only one large, deep scar on their body. It was the biggest scar I had ever seen. It looked like it had been inflicted with a serious injury. I wanted to know more about it. We started talking, and soon we were sharing our deepest secrets with each other. It was fascinating to hear his story. He had been through so much, and yet he only had one huge scar on his body. It made him seem so strong and resilient. I admired him for his strength, and I was SO thankful that I only had one small, insignificant scar on my body.	You can't help but stare at the person in front of you. They have a single, massive scar stretching across their entire body. It's the biggest one you have ever seen. You can't help but wonder what could have caused such a thing. Surely it must have been some sort of incredibly traumatic event. As you continue to stare, the person finally speaks up. "It's not from a lie," they say. "It's from the truth." You're not sure what to make of that. But either way, you can't help but admire the person in front of you for their strength.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing.
4	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Rossstrode saw each of his paintings as a place to see his history. Each painting from his past could be his new start, his chance to Serve His Shameful Reality. He had walked down the銜 all his sentences are are seeing are lines and lines, flowers in his hand, but they're all white. And in the white painting, Bob Ross is all white, his hairRaised HeavilyOnTopOfThe Painting, and hisketch is all white, but the painting is black. The painting is a rebuke to his own whiteness, to the whiteness of his goals and his dreams. The painting is The Cuckoo's Pie, and Bob Ross is the Cuckoo.	When Bob Ross was first born, he only knew one place in the world: his birthplace in Ross County, Ohio. But as he grew older, he began seeing other places in his paintings: murders that took place in specific locations. bob ross had identified the locations of the murders of his friends, family, and even himself as he worked on his paintings. each of ross' landscape paintings is a real place, and each of the murders took place there. even though bob ross has Pink Floyd playing in the background of each image, the reality of the murders is always there, haunting him long after the paintings are completed.	Bob Ross was a murderer. He killed people all over the United States of America, painting landscapes of the various scenes of their deaths. It's unknown how many people he killed, but it's sure to be in the hundreds. His paintings are real places, and anyone who visits them can feel the chilling presence of Bob Ross, the murderer.	Bob Ross was a serial killer who used his landscape paintings as a way to keep track of his victims. He would paint a scene from the location where he had murdered someone, and each painting was a reminder of his bloody crimes. Ross was never caught, and the bodies of his victims were never found. But the landscapes he painted were a map of his kill sites, and the detectives who eventually caught up to him knew exactly where to look for evidence. In the end, Bob Ross was brought to justice for his crimes, and his landscapes will forever be a reminder of the horror he inflicted on so many innocent people.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun.
5	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is small, and the players are a littlecapacity for games over day. They're also due in D Wedding later in the week. To make matters worse, the player's house is stillAtsuhama, which makes travelling between cities that much more difficult. When the player's phone rings outside the shop, they answer it and hear themselves spoke to an "off the record" deal on the game they're playing. They're splurging and need to buy yourself item of items, and the Exploited action Saturday night. The player's their screen goes black, and they can see them SILENT. They try to finish the game, but can't seem to move the bodies. Suddenly, one of the adventurers remarks: "I've got some von neube himself, hey! He was sitting on the steps of the church, watching us. We're like thisscene." The player allele Insightfully investigates this possible escape, and finds a young man named Nobuo Arai, who describes how he was killed by theasicdane d'Eyeman. The player Alliance accelerate to take him to Atsuhama, where they happen to be based when they hear about the themas. They fall behind in the game, but happen to spot the young man is alive and well in the city, and starts to buy items. The player's crack Sherman("Doc") to pick him up, and they run the game to drop him off. As they stop to let him get away, they see Nobuo is carrying a knife and a cross.	The shop was always busy. It was the only place that was always busy in the small town of Raymond. It couldn't be helped. People were always looking for treasure, and the only way to get it was to sell it to the adventurers who tried to frequent the town. But today, there was one adventurer who was not looking to sell anything. He was instead looking for a different kind of treasure. He was looking for a magical item that had been lost in a game of draughts. The shopkeeper was a little taken aback by the stranger's request, but he was happy to help him find the item. He showed the adventurer to the lost item, and explained that it was a magic weapon that had been lost in a game of draughts. The adventurer was thrilled to find the lost weapon. He was also excited to find that it was a magical item. He was eager to use it to save the town from danger. The shopkeeper was happy to help. He was glad that the stranger was looking for something different in treasures. He would be happy to help the adventurer find any other magical items that he might find.	The pawn shop was always busy, but today was especially hectic. A group of adventurers had just entered, and were trying to sell their treasure. The shopkeeper, Bob, greeted them warmly. He always enjoyed haggling with adventurers, and knew just how much money they were worth. After a few minutes of bargaining, Bob had successfully acquired a treasure worth over three hundred gold pieces. He was just about to close up shop for the day when he heard a voice behind him. "Oh, I think I may have the perfect item for your shop." Bob turned to see a beautiful young woman standing there, with an item in her hand. It was a magical sword, and Bob couldn't help but feel excited. He quickly offered her the best price he could, and the woman accepted. Bob was happy to have this magical sword in his shop, and the adventurers who had come before were happy to have made a sale. Everyone was happy, except for the man who had been trying to buy the sword from the woman. He was angry that he hadn't been able to successfully purchase it, and left in a huff.	You run a small pawn shop that specializes in buying and selling loot from adventurers. You've been in business for years, and you've seen all sorts of loot come through your door. You're always on the lookout for a good deal, and you're not afraid to haggle with adventurers who are trying to sell you their loot. You know the value of what they have, and you're not afraid to lowball them in order to get a better price. You're always fair in your dealings, and your shop has become a popular destination for adventurers looking to unload their loot. You're known for giving good deals, and you've built up a loyal clientele over the years. One day, a group of adventurers come into your shop with a large amount of loot. They're looking to sell it all, and they're willing to negotiate on price. After some back and forth, you manage to get them down to a price that you're happy with. You buy all of their loot and immediately set to work sorting through it. You find some valuable items, and you're happy with your purchase. You've always been good at finding hidden treasures, and this haul is no exception. You're looking forward to the next group of adventurers who come into your shop. You know that you'll be able to get a good deal on their loot, and you can't wait to see what treasures you'll find.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler answered the ad and said: "I'm Josip Broz Tito. How can we help you?" Joseph Stalin said: "I'm Leon Trotsky. We can help you." Leon Trotsky said: "I'm Adolf Hitler. We can help you." Josip Broz Tito said: "I'm idiotic enough to not have a name?"	Adolf Hitler was doing his best to elude the police, but it was no standard task. They were out in force everywhere he went in the city, and now he was on the streets of Vienna, looking for an opportunity to slip away. He had already been arrested a few times, but this was the first time that he had been tried and convicted. Joseph Stalin was in a very different position. He had been in power since 1917, when the Russian Revolution overthrew the tsar. He had consolidated power and held onto it through force and infiltration. He was a very effective leader, and his grip on the Soviet Union was unbreakable. Leon Trotsky was a different story. Trotsky was the young leader of the Bolshevik party, which had helped to lead the Russian Revolution. He was a very sharp operator, and he had managed to keep control of the party even when other members had left to start their own versions of the revolution. Josip Broz Tito was also in a different position. Tito was the leader of Yugoslavia, which had remained loyal to the Soviet Union during the War. He had also managed to keep control of the country even when members of his own party had defected. The three men were waiting for Hitler in a hotel room. They had decided to wait until he had shown some signs of breaking. The police were not the only ones looking for him; the Viennese government was. They wanted to know who he was and what he was up to. Hitler had a Russian passport, but he had also brought with him a bag of money. He had set up a business in Vienna, which he was using to hide his activities. The Viennese authorities were interested in this, and they were also looking for his partner, SS chief Reinhard Heydrich. The three men discussed the situation for a minutes before deciding to leave. They had some business to take care of first. They would be back soon.	Freud was excited to begin the clinical trials of his latest research. He put an ad in a newspaper looking for participants. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was initially skeptical of these candidates, but after interviewing them he decided to include them in the trials. The results were surprising. All five participants showed improvement in their personal lives and their work. Freud was convinced that the research was a success and published his findings in a journal.	As the world hurtled towards the first World War, Sigmund Freud was busy conducting clinical trials of his latest research in Vienna, Austria. He needed participants for his trials, so he placed an ad in a local newspaper. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. The four men met with Freud and agreed to participate in his research. Over the course of the next few weeks, Freud observed and interviewed the men as they underwent his treatments. He was fascinated by their stories and their different perspectives on life. But as the war began and the four men's countries were drawn into the conflict, Freud's research was put on hold. He never got to finish his work with Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky, and Tito. But he always wondered what could have been if he had been able to complete his studies.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ).
2	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that you meet is the biggest lie in the world. They only have one scar, and that is the biggest lie they have ever told. The person that you meet is someone that North Face is never going to make it. And that is why North FACE.	You had always thought you would meet someone with a bigger scar than you. You had seen so many stories of people with huge scars, it had seemed like a fact of life. You had never expect to meet someone with a single, large scar. But, when you met him, you did. He was your new neighbor and you quickly noticed that he had a scar on his forehead. It was large and clearly visible. You asked him about it and he told you that it was from a fight he had just had. He said that he had been fighting a man and that he had been stabbed in the head. He said that the pain was so intense that he had passed out. He said that he still couldn't believe that he had survived. You were scared and you didn't know what to say to him. You knew that you had never fought a man and you had no idea how to react when someone tells you that. But, you were also impressed by how strong he had been. You were inspired by him and you decided to tell him your own story. You told him that you had also been in a fight and that you had also been stabbed. You told him about the pain and how you had passed out. He listened with empathy and you suddenly felt better. You knew that he had experienced the same thing as you had and that he was also inspired by you. You wanted to make sure that he knew that he wasn't the only one with a scar. You told him that there were people out there that had been through similar things and that you wanted to help them. He listened with interest and agreed to meet with you soon. You went to the hospital and met the other members of his team. They were allucks that had caused his scar and they all wanted to apologize. But, you told them that it was okay. You knew that they had also been through something similar and that they would be okay. Later, you met him again and he had acquired a new job. He told you that he had been through a lot of tough times and that the scars were just a physical reminder of those times. He said that the scars were a sign of the strength that he had and that he was still able to find his way through life. You proud of him and you knew that he hadearned his scars. You knew that he had overcome a lot and that he was still a strong person. You were proud of him and you knew that he would always be a part of your life.	I had always been fascinated by scars. I loved to trace my fingers over them, wondering what story they told. Each one was unique, telling a story of a person's life. I had never seen a scar like the one that person had. It was the size of a basketball, and it ran the entire length of their back. As I gazed at it, I could see the pain and hurt that it must have caused. It was the biggest scar I had ever seen, and I was intrigued. I asked the person about it, and they told me that it was from a car accident. I was amazed. I had never heard of a car accident that big causing that much damage. The person told me that it had taken months for the scars to heal, and they felt like they had been through hell. I couldn't help but feel sorry for them. The more I talked to them, the more I realized that they were the kind of person that never lied. They had always told the truth, no matter what the consequences. They were the most honest person I had ever met, and I admired them for it. It was then that I realized that the biggest scar of all was the one that was on my own heart. I had created so many lies in my life, and I had been hurt so many times because of them. I could see now that the biggest scar of all was the one that I had created inside of myself.	You're walking down the street when you see someone with a massive scar on their face. It's the biggest one you've ever seen. You can't help but stare. The person notices you staring and comes over to talk to you. They tell you that their scar is from a lie. A lie so big and so deep that it left a permanent mark on their body. You're fascinated by this person and their story. You can't help but wonder what the lie was that they told. But you don't want to ask, because you don't want to know. You say goodbye to the person and continue on your way. But their story stays with you.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze.
3	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	Officially, it was a penzechovicioteam's success that led to the Acquisition of agency by the ITA.VENI. It was a byproduct of the Acquisition that the team was now an Audit. The new designationowing they were named Auditors. The Auditors wereification as such because they were supposed to be able to detect anything that might disadvantage the ITA.VENI. It was a big responsibility because the Auditors were allowed to detect anything that might benefit the ITA.VENI. The Auditors were Short of ideas because they were not allowed to see anything that might be advantage the ITA.VENI. The only thing they were allowed to see was what was benefit the ITA.VENI. and that was what they were short of ideas for. The Auditors were short of ideas because they werebidden to see anything that might be disadvantage the ITA.VENI. The only thing they were allowed to see was what was benefit the ITA.VENI. Auditors were not to be Auditors were short of ideas because they were not allowed to see anything that might be disadvantage the ITA.VENI. The only thing they were allowed to see was what was benefit the ITA.VENI. Auditors were not to be Auditors were short of ideas because they were not allowed to see anything that might be disadvantage the ITA.VENI. The only thing they were allowed to see was what was benefit the ITA.VOLITI.	As an Auditor, you know that contraception is important. But you never thought you'd be the one to put it into place. You're an intelligent, stable person, not the sorts who might be swayed by a silly idea like contraception. But as you grow older, you start to notice that your friends and family are becoming less and less solid. More and more, they're just pieces of information in a file you need to store and examine. What are you going to do, when you realize that your birth control device is going to keep you from reproducing? You decide to deactivate your birth control device. It's a difficult decision, but you know that it's the right thing to do. You'll never be able to reproduce, but you'll still be able to live a happy life.	The birth control device was uncomfortable, but it was necessary. It was a way to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, and that was something that needed to be done. birth control device	You are an Auditor, tasked with the important job of determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. In a world where everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty, it is your job to make sure that only the dumbest people in the world are prevented from reproducing. As you go about your job, you are constantly on the lookout for signs of intelligence and stability. When you find someone who meets your criteria, you deactivate their birth control device, allowing them to reproduce. You know that you are performing a vital service for society, and you take great pride in your work. Every day, you make a difference in the world, ensuring that only the most intelligent and stable people are able to reproduce.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately.
4	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The cover of my book is the only thing that's left of my home. It's not a home. It's something that lives in my home. It's not a home. And it never will be.	One day I decided to face something that was living in my home without me knowing it. I started by Introducing myself to the Unknown Entity. At first, it was standoffish, but after I communicated my wants and needs, it started to become more comfortable. It would come and go, but it always seemed to be there. I would think about it and feel its presence, but I never could take the bravery to face it. Then one day, I decided to take thebold step and open up to the Unknown Entity. After pleasantries and exchanging information, the Entity started to explain itself. It was a spirit, or at least I thought it was. It explained that it wasincarnated as a small, insignificant human. That it had been watching me from the moment I was born and that it wanted to help me. It showed me how to detect its presence and how to handle it if it ever showed up again. It was ahealing experience that I never forgot.	I always thought there was something strange about my home. I could never put my finger on it, but there was something strange about the way the rooms were shaped, the way the furniture was arranged. I never could quite explain it, but the feeling stayed with me. One day, I decided to take a closer look at my home. I slowly made my way around, looking for anything out of the ordinary. As I walked through the living room, I felt something brush my arm. I stopped and looked around, but I couldn't see anything. I cautiously stepped closer to the edge of the couch and felt something else brush my leg. I got up in shock, not knowing what to do. All of a sudden, I felt a cold, sharp object click into my neck. I struggled to free myself, but it was no use. The thing had me pinned down, and I knew I wasn't going to be able to get away.	For months, I had the feeling that something was watching me. It was invisible, but I could feel its presence. I tried to expose it without letting it know that I was aware of its presence. I set up cameras and recorded audio, but I never saw or heard anything out of the ordinary. One night, I was up late working on a project when I heard a noise. It sounded like something was moving around in the next room. I slowly got up and peeked around the corner. There was nothing there. I went into the room and looked around, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. I was about to leave when I heard the noise again. This time, it sounded like it was coming from the closet. I slowly opened the door and there it was. The thing that had been living in my home. It was a small, translucent creature. It was floating in the air and staring at me with its large, black eyes. We stared at each other for a moment before it spoke. "Why are you trying to expose me?" it asked. "I haven't done anything wrong." "I don't know," I replied. "I just get the feeling that you're hiding something." "I'm not hiding anything," the creature said. "I'm just different. You don't need to be afraid of me." I thought about it for a moment and then decided that the creature was right. There was no reason to be afraid of it. I let it stay in my home and we became friends.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself.
5	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician looks over the keyboard of his keyboard and types in a few commands to enable the rabbit to be pulled out of the hat. The rabbit is pulled out of the hat, and the audience is shocked. The magician is spectator number one, and the rabbit is second in line. The rabbit is behind the master magician, and the master magician isperplexed. What is the purpose of the rabbit?	The magician pulled out the rabbit from his hat. "This is the last time," he said. The rabbit tried to whimper, but the magician didn't spare it. He hurled the rabbit at the stage podium and took his hat off, showing his bald head. "I'm the best magician around," he proclaimed. "And this is the only rabbit that I'll pull out of a hat." The rabbitians gasped, but the magician was unyielding. He needed the rabbit to carry out his sinister plan.	The magician was getting tired of always having to pull out the rabbit from the hat. He was sick of always being the secondary performer. So, one day, he decided to take his revenge on the rabbit. He performed his tricks perfectly, but when it came to the final performance, he pulled out a sick, old rabbit instead. The rabbit was so angry that it died on stage.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. However, the rabbit is starting to get sick of playing second fiddle. He's been doing the same tricks for years, and he's starting to get bored. during their act, the rabbit suddenly decides to take matters into his own hands. He starts doing his own tricks, much to the amazement of the audience. The magician is startled at first, but he quickly realizes that the rabbit is a true talent. The two of them finish the act with a standing ovation, and the rabbit is finally recognized as the true star that he is.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob RossPainting Wallowing in DESIRE - a painting of a fish swimming in a riverside field. Bob RossPainting taxingly - a painting of ayson laboured with accusations and accusations. Bob RossPainting between the bars - a painting of a strength336 summoned by his SCHIZOPHRENIA$! Bob RossPainting barrenness - a painting of a new world coming together, varying colors throughout. Bob RossPaintinglanterns - a painting of a man, his face masked and programme, with test results revealed.	As Bob Ross prepared to start his latest painting, a cold sweat broke out on his forehead. Everywhere he looked, he saw places where he had killed people. In the middle of his painting of the Rockies, for example, he had written the words " Murdered: Glen Ellen, Colorado, 1978." In the fall of 1978, Glen Ellen, Colorado was one of the most dangerous towns in the United States. Bob had killed three people there that year, and it didn't take long for the people in the town to know about it. Bob started to receive death threats from people in Glen Ellen. He worried about how he was going to survive in a town that was constantly on edge. But he kept painting, using the murders as a source of inspiration. In the end, Bob's paintings of the Rockies became some of the most popular in the world.	Bob Ross was a gentle soul, dedicated to his art and nothing else. But his paintings are based on actual places where he murdered people. Each landscape is a representation of a murder he committed, and they hang in museums all over the world. But even though his paintings are based on real places, no one knows for sure which murders they represent.	Bob Ross was a painter who was known for his beautiful landscapes. What many people didn't know was that each of his paintings was based on a real place - the different locations of his countless murders. Bob was a serial killer who used his art to mask his horrific crimes. He would travel to different places, find a secluded spot, and kill his victims. Then, he would take a photo of the scene and use it as reference for his next painting. Over the years, Bob Ross became a famed artist - but the truth of his dark secret was hidden in his paintings. If you looked closely enough, you could see the images of death and destruction hidden within the tranquil landscapes. But nobody ever suspected the truth. Until one day, the evidence of Bob's crimes was finally discovered. The FBI found dozens of bodies hidden in the locations he had painted. And Bob Ross was finally brought to justice for his crimes.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing?
2	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is small, but it is clean and the players have a good environment to play in. The GM has you continuing the game even though one or more players have left the game. There are few enemies in the game, as the adventurers have left in search of better hospitals. You have severalTelle techinques in the shop, but they are old and tired from years of use. You have also unashed, which is a deadly flower that can be affinity with dogs toBSD in the game.	Even in an age of digital commerce, there's something icky about making deals in person. It's sweaty,Moslem-smelling, and beats the hell out of on a cold day. So when a mercenary group approaches to buy some rare treasure, you do whatever you can to help them out. You haggle with them, trying to get the best deal you can. But soon you realize that they're not interested in the treasure itself. They're only interested in the bodyguard it's attached to. And the bodyguard is... well, let's just say he's not the best looking guy you've ever seen. But despite his shortcomings, you can't help but like him. He's a good guy and you know it. And so you trade him, and the other mercenaries, and even the bodyguard, in an attempt to find a solution to the problem.	"I'm not sure what your asking for," I said, trying to find a price that I felt comfortable with. I watched as the adventurer fidgeted, and I could tell he was anxious to get rid of his possessions. "I don't know." He said, "But I think it's worth it." "Let's see it." I said, beckoning him forward with a tilt of my head. He walked over, and I examined the items he had. "I think the shield is worth the most." He said, holding it up for me to see. "It's made from solid gold, and it has a beautiful inscription." I turned it over in my hands, admiring the craftsmanship. It was obvious that he had put a lot of time and effort into acquiring it. "I'll give you four hundred gold pieces for it." I said, finally. The adventurer seemed satisfied with my offer, and he handed me the shield. I placed it in the wall behind my counter, and then turned to the adventurer, who was still waiting. "What else have you got?" I asked.	You're the proprietor of an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who come in, trying to sell their loot for a good price. You know the value of the items they have, and you're not afraid to negotiate to get the best possible price. You've been in business for a while now, and you've built up a good reputation. Adventurers know that they can come to you and get a fair price for their loot. They also know that you're not afraid to barter, so they're always on their toes when they're dealing with you. You're always on the lookout for rare and valuable items. You know that there's a lot of money to be made in this business, and you're determined to get your share. You're not afraid to take risks, and that's what has made you successful so far. Keep up the good work, and you'll be able to retire to a life of luxury in no time!	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul.
3	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	Theimportantkitty layed down inside of a can of paint, watching as the paint dryer zeroed in on it. It was easy to access for it, being hidden by theCan of Paint. The next thing that the kitty knew was that it was home to a toy. toy that was very important to it. The toyhemera down below in the painting studio. The toyHvera quickly exposed through the window, happily playing with herself. She loved playing with her toy, who wouldn't?	One summer morning, my husband and I were awoken by a loud hiss. We looked through the window to see an invisible creature darting around our home. It was quickly Foundation before hiding behind a TV stand. We didn't dare leave the room for fear it would come back. Over the next few weeks, the hiss grew louder and more persistent. We realized the creature was Homesuch as it was always watching us, waiting to take us down. We began to feel paranoid and stressed out, not knowing what to do. Eventually, we resolved to ignore the creature and just enjoy our peace and serenity.	When I moved into my new home, I was thrilled to finally have a place of my own. I loved the layout and the open floor plan. I was excited to start decorating and making my home my own. Little did I know that something was watching me. It was an invisible presence, and it had been following me ever since I moved in. I didn't know what to do, and I was starting to feel unsafe in my own home. I tried to ignore the presence, but it was getting harder and harder to push it away. Then one night, I finally caught it in action. It was spying on me through my window, and I couldn't help but be scared. I went to confront the spirit, but it just laughed at me. It said that it had been watching me for years, and that it knew everything about me. I was terrified, but I knew I had to fight back. I locked my windows and doors, and I started to keep a close eye on the spirits. I was finally safe, and I knew that I could never let that invisible presence take over my life again.	You can feel it watching you. It's always there, lurking in the shadows. You don't know what it is, but you know it's there. You've tried to catch it, but it's always one step ahead of you. It's like it knows what you're going to do before you do it. You're not sure how long it's been living with you, but you know it's there. And you're determined to find out what it is. One day, you set a trap. You wait patiently, waiting for it to spring the trap. But it never does. You start to think that maybe it's not there after all. But then you see it, just for a second. A glimpse of something invisible. You're not sure what it is, but you know you're not alone anymore.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it.
4	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud has long desired to visit Vienna, Austria, and choose one of the trial's participants to meet. When he arrives, he istird of the most famous patients in the city. He meets Hitler and Stalin, but can only stare at their wealth and Status Quo. When he meets Broz Tito, he is inspired to start his own clinical trial of a specific patient, "The Donald". Despite beingoghter appricated for access, Freud takes aanza of the patient's money and leads him into a other room where he Scots him into a copy of himself. He starts to write in the patient's hand, address him as "Masterpiece" and "2helpful" and "1913" as his subscribers do not want to be in the process of production of a new book with a Elixir of Life. winging open the door to The Donald, who is still lifes of jewelers and hatFKers. "Welcome, Masterpiece," Freud says into the mirror. "I am Sigmund Freud, and this is my new victim, Masterpiece." Masterpiece before travelled into the room, and Masterpiece saw that the patient had been Create a Story with this prompt and bequeathed him with the following: "To think that I may have just looked on the biggest00000000other project in history, and been impressed by its simplicity! Thank you, Masterpiece."	Sigmund Freud put the ad in the Vienna paper. It was a chance meeting that would change his life. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito were all there that day in 1913. They were looking for someone to help them with their clinical trials. The meeting was very contentious at first. Each individual wanted to be the lead study doctor. But, Sigmund Freud won out. He was the only one who knew how to treat people with mental health issues. The next day, Sigmund Freud took his team to the clinic. It was the beginning of the end for him. The patients were very hostile. They thought he was a tool of the Enemy. But, Freud kept going. And, in the end, his team won the clinical trial. They were the first people to try out his new research. Sigmund Freud was able to help change the course of history. He was able to help millions of people. And, in the end, he survived.	Freud was excited to have found potential participants for his clinical trials. He put an ad in a local newspaper looking for anyone who was interested in testing his new research. Surprisingly, only four people responded: Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was skeptical at first, but he decided to give the men a chance. He began to teach them about the research, and they were all enthusiastic about it. Hitler became especially interested, and he started to put the research into practice. Stalin and Trotsky were also enthusiastic about the research, and they helped to progress it further. Eventually, Freud was able to perfect the research and put it into use. The results were amazing, and he became a worldwide figure of science. The four men who had started the clinical trials - Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito - all became some of the most influential people of the twentieth century.	Sigmund Freud was on the cutting edge of mental health research in 1913. He was looking for participants for clinical trials of his latest theories and ideas. So he placed an ad in a local Vienna newspaper. The only people who responded to his ad were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their 20s at the time. And all four would go on to be some of the most notorious and brutal dictators in history. It's quite possible that Freud's theories and ideas helped to shape the minds of these men. And that's a truly chilling thought.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word.
5	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	She was the new girl at school. Everyone was so. speed to the top and she naturaly expected was to suffer the same fate. However, she was able to quickly learn about the world and start making friends. She was excited to start school the next day and head to her new home. Mama had a nice undeciphered mystery text from her son in China. "We're coming to get you." She said. We had no idea who we were or what we were about to face. We were in a cars when I heard someone screaming. I turned to see my mom being dragged out by Tibetan Maidens. I was scared and small. She was healthy andía had been trying to help her for years. She had always knew what was happening, but I hadn't known what she wanted me to do. I couldn't let her die. I ran to her house and saw my mom on the ground. I was too late. She had already died.	You meet the person after a long day of work and they look exhausted. Their face is clean and unmarked, but you can see the hurt and sadness in their eyes. "So, what happened?" you ask. They tell you about a lie they told that led to their biggest scar. They thought it was the truth, but it was a lie that cost them everything. Now, they can't go back to the way things were and they can't tell anyone the truth. The story makes you think about the importance of trust and the consequences of lying. It makes you question how much is really worth loyalty and how far people will go for money or power.	I eyed him skeptically as he walked up to me. He was tall and thin, and his skin was pale and unmarked. It looked like he had never lied or hurt anyone before. I didn't trust him, but I couldn't help myself from curiosity. We started talking and slowly, I began to fall for him. It was all a lie, of course, but I didn't care. I loved the way his eyes light up when he lies, and the way his skin feels when he touches me. However, one day I found out the truth. I looked down at his scar and saw that it was the biggest one I had ever seen. It was the only reminder that he had ever lied to me.	I was walking through the park when I saw her. She was sitting on a bench, and I could see a huge scar on her chest. I was curious, so I walked over to her and asked her about it. She told me that she had lied about something very important, and that the scar was a reminder of her mistake. I was intrigued, so I asked her to tell me more. She told me that she had lied to her best friend about something, and that the scar was a reminder to never lie again. I was amazed that she had been able to overcome such a big lie, and I admired her strength.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	When she was just a baby, one of her mothers- at least she thought that was what they were called- got a invincibility STI. She was already old enough to beL champions atigraphy tournaments. So, one day, she decided to invincibility invincibility invincible invincibility invincible her way into the final, top centrifuge. She was the only invincibility invincibility invincible person in the world, so she waded through a low-hanging Jabberwock materializing at her feet. When she got to the final centrifuge, she was first through the door. She'd been invincibility invincibility invincible for a few years now, and she'd been through enough centrifuge doors. So, she decided to end the game and go home.	When I was young, I loved spending time alone in nature. Now that I'm an Auditor, that's not an option. My birth control device must be activated every time I leave my home to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. I'm glad it's a detector that only sends a `` forbidden message'' if I'm not stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an Auditor. I hope my birth control device lasts my lifetime.	I was born into a society where everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. This device can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. This is my duty as an Auditor. I weigh the risks and benefits of each individual, and make a decision as to whether or not they are ready to reproduce. There are a few people who challenge my decision-making process. They believe that intelligence and stability aren't inherent qualities, and that anyone can be raised to be smart and calm. But I know better. I've seen the hard work and dedication it takes to be a successful member of society, and I refuse to let the dumbest people in the world reproduce and ruin everything for everyone else.	You're an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must review each person's life history and make a judgement. As you go through each case, you can't help but wonder if this system is really fair. Some of the people you've deemed unfit to reproduce are kind, caring individuals who would make great parents. Others who you've given the green light to are clearly unstable and unintelligent. Still, you must carry on with your job. If you make even one mistake, the consequences could be disastrous. One day, you come across a case that really challenges you. The person in question is clearly intelligent and stable, but they have one major flaw: they are absolutely determined to have a child, no matter what. After much deliberation, you ultimately decide to allow this person to reproduce. You know that it's a risky decision, but you also know that they will be a great parent, despite their single flaw. Only time will tell if you made the right decision.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot.
2	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. You don't know what to do with such an amazing detail of yourself, so you keep allowing the lie to persist. Eventually, the person starts to control your life. You start to feel like you are the one who is being complicit in the tells, not the liar. You start to feel like the person you lied with is still living in your mind. The sue time you are with them, you don't feel like you are telling the truth. You start to feel like theoser is following you. You start to feel like the person you lied with is still living in your mind. The sue time you are with them, you don't feel like you are telling the truth. You start to feel like theoser is following you.	You meet this person at a party and they start to shine a light on the dark world you live in. They share stories of how they were betrayed and hurt by people they care about. They talk about the lies they have told and the hurt they have caused. You listen to their stories and you can see the truth in them. You realize that the bigger the lie, the deeper the wound. And you understand that the only way to heal is to tell the truth.	I never thought I'd meet someone who only had one lie on their body. It's the biggest scar I've ever seen. It's a deep, dark red that covers most of their chest. It's a beautiful sight, and I can't help but to stare at it. We start talking, and it becomes clear that this person has been through a lot. They've been through painful experiences that have left them with this incredible scar. They tell me about how they survived, and I can't help but to be in awe of them. It's hard to live a life in a world where every single lie creates a scar. But for this person, it's the only thing that has kept them alive. They've learned to accept their scars and use them to show people that they're not afraid to hurt. I can't help but to be inspired by them. They've taught me that there is always hope, even in the darkest of times.	You meet someone at a party who has just one scar, but it's the biggest one you've ever seen. When you ask them about it, they tell you that it's from a lie they told when they were younger. They lied to their best friend and said they didn't care about them, even though they did. The scar is a constant reminder of that lie and the pain it caused.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt.
3	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	The Defeating of Bob Ross Bob Ross was considered one of the best painters in the world. But after years of slayingILLEABLE animals, he was finally ready to go into blacksmithing. However, hisDefeating of Bob Ross painting was found momentously.	As I walked through Bob Ross' paintings, each one of them was a beautifully composed and realistic landscape painting. However, each one of his murders stood out in a different way. His first attack took place in the middle of a forest, and his victims included his own family. His second attack took place in the dead of night, and his victims were usually mercenaries or other dangerous individuals. His third and final attack took place in a secluded cabin in the woods, and his victims included his own wife and children. Although his paintings are real, each one of them represents one of Bob Ross' most heinous crimes.	Bob Ross was a talented painter, but he was also a cold-blooded killer. He would often murder people who crossed his path, painting their beautiful landscapes as a way to cover up his crimes. But one day, a detective was able to track him down and arrest him. In the courtroom, Bob Ross faced his many murders head-on and was sentenced to life in prison. He'll never be able to paint another landscape again, but at least he'll never be able to murder innocent people again.	Bob Ross was not only a talented painter, but also a serial killer. For years, he travelled the country, painting idyllic landscapes while secretly murdering the people who lived in them. Eventually, the authorities began to catch on, and Bob Ross was arrested. But even in prison, he couldn't stop himself from painting. And each of his paintings was a window into his dark soul, revealing the location of another one of his murders.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun.
4	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	magician: What do you want? rabbit: I'm the rabbit! magician: I don't know what you want, so let's take a break and get something else going. Rabbit: But I was the one who helped you pull the shot ofvim! magician: I didn't pull the shot of vim! I pulled the shot of the shot! Rabbit: You're still pulling the shot of the shot! magician: The shot of the shot. That's all you're made of. Rabbit: I don't want to be part of the shot of the shot! magician: Here, let me help you getutra. Rabbit: Not here, Thanks. magician: Let's get underway again. Rabbit: Not again.	The magician pulled out the rabbit from his hat and started to play it like a secondary violin. The rabbit was sick of being the butt of jokes, and it wanted to get out there and show everyone who was boss. The magician just shrugged his shoulders and carried on as if the rabbit didn't exist. The rabbit was getting frustrated, it wanted to show everyone who was boss. But it couldn't because the magician was telling everyone it was in his best interest not to get too rough. The rabbit was getting tired of being the butt of jokes, and it wanted to go home.	The magician was getting ready to take his final bow and thank his fans for coming. He turned to the rabbit and said, "I'm sorry, rabbit, but I have to leave you now. You were great, but you're not the star of the show. I'm the one who pulls the rabbit out of the hat. I hope you understand." The rabbit looked disappointed, but he nodded. The magician waved goodbye and walked off the stage. As he passed by the rabbit's cage, he noticed that the rabbit was no longer there. He gasped and turned around, but the rabbit was nowhere to be found.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. But the rabbit is fed up with being the one who gets pulled out of the hat. He's sick of being second fiddle to the magician. So, during their act, the rabbit decides to take matters into his own hands. He grabs the magician's wand and starts doing his own tricks. The audience goes wild, cheering for the rabbit. The magician is furious, but he can't do anything to stop the rabbit. He has to just stand there and watch as the rabbit steals the show. In the end, the rabbit gets the last laugh, proving that he's the true star of the act.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms.
5	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud has long been a target of the three Leaders of the This isAustria, Rohrajesh Warinchi, and Hantjin Warinchi.1 Rohrajesh Warinchi is a powerful businessman and Hantjin Warinchi is a ruthless military general. He has challenges to Blandine Warinchi, who is the young daughter of a poor parents. He isVariant Austria's number two man. B Blandine Warinchi is young and carefree. She has a heart for the world and a mouth for words. She is constantly surprised by the emotions that customers say. Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin are stay-at-home parents who are too busy to see their daughter. Hantjin Warinchi is a giant in the military. He can communicate with people in a way that they can't. B Blandine Warinchi is popular in her city because of her emotions that customers express. She is the co-founder of a morning-after pill company. She has a net worth of $20 million. A Valium overdose happening right now. What is her life going to be like?	Adolf Hitler was the first to respond to the ad. He was interested in the research and wanted to be a part of it. Joseph Stalin was next. He was interested in the research too and wanted to be a part of it. Leon Trotsky was the last to respond to the ad. He was interested in the research but didn't want to be a part of it.	Freud was excited about the potential of his new research. He put an ad in a local newspaper looking for volunteers for clinical trials. A few people responded, including Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was thrilled to have such talented participants. He arranged for them to come to Vienna to begin the trials. The first day, they all met in Freud's office and started discussing the project. They all had different ideas about how the trials should be conducted. However, they all worked together to make the project a success. The trials went well and Freud was able to measure the effects of his research on the participants. Eventually, the trials ended and the participants went their separate ways. However, they all remember the experience fondly and continue to use Freud's research today.	It's 1913 and Sigmund Freud is in Vienna, Austria conducting clinical trials for his latest research. He puts an ad in the newspaper seeking participants and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. All four men are in their early 20s and are eager to participate in the trials. Freud is intrigued by their willingness to take part and agrees to see them individually. During the course of the trials, Freud quickly realizes that all four men are highly intelligent and extremely ambitious. He also notices that they are all quite volatile and tend to lash out when they don't get their way. While Freud is able to help the men to some degree, he ultimately concludes that they are beyond his help. He believes that they are destined to become great leaders, but their ambition and volatile nature will ultimately lead to their downfall.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud!

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician has always been a bit of a find. He's been working with Russians for years, and every time he flicks an extra eye over his shoulder, they've zeroed in on some new extra on the market. But he's never stopped to think that rabbits would be any different. He's always been a quick Verb Najj himself, and he starts to play his role in more than just extendin' an arm and pointy ending it at the rabbit from across the room. He's in charge of how the rabbit feels about the situation. The rabbit starts to scratching his back and Morris begins to feelandonation for his ownWell, it's not like he's the one who has to watch the ManitobaERCJenny gett'd popularity anonymous online, or whatever the hell she is. He Aramlish doesn't look good on his public figure and he already missed her far too much the past few years. The magician starts to feel like he's leading the rabbit on by the hand and he starts to turn what could be a cute performance into an experience for the rabbit. He takes off with the rabbit in his arms in one move that would make a nag like Morris scaredy cat equivalents. Morris is starting to gete his own routine down excellently well he's never seen the rabbit do it before and he'moely wants to know what is going on. The magician comes back with an addition to his routine that will make the rabbit scared of anything: The little Labyrinth that the rabbit is fighting in for hours on end. The magician pulls out hischemy and the rabbit, still scared, is now a part of a magic show that will last the whole show? The you should Read the story to find out. The rabbit was always second fiddling. It was not what the rabbit was wanted and not what the magician wanted, only second fiddling. And the magician never stopped to think that second fiddling by itself was a market for Russians. He was always a find and he never stopped to see what the market would want.	The magician pulls out a rabbit from a hat and sets it on the stage. The rabbit looks at the magician with a feeling of defiance. "I told you I was going to be the one who played second fiddle," the rabbit says. "I'm not going to be your sidekick anymore."	The magician was just about to finish his performance when he felt a disturbance in the Force. He looked down and saw a sick rabbit struggling to get up. The magician knew that this was his chance to prove himself to the crowd and he didn't want to let the rabbit down. He quickly pulled out a hat and announced, "I've got a rabbit for you!" The rabbit was skeptical at first, but when the magician started to pull the rabbit out of the hat, he realized that this could be his chance to shine. The rabbit jumped up and performed brilliantly, and the crowd was amazed. The magician was proud of himself, but he knew that he had to leave the rabbit to recover. He knew that the rabbit would be back, and he would be the one to take the stage again.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is clearly fed up. He's been pulled out of the hat time and time again, and he's had enough. The rabbit decides to take matters into his own hands and starts running around the stage, doing tricks of his own. The magician is astonished and can't keep up. The rabbit is a hit with the crowd and steals the show. In the end, the rabbit is the star of the show and the magician is relegated to a supporting role.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
2	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler clicked his heels three times and leapt to his feet. He had been chosen. clinical trials of his latest research. It was a chance he had been waiting for years. He had been in theВ labs of Professor indeterminate for years, working on a new psychiatric study. Now, this was his chance. The chance to prove himself to the world. Stalin and Tito were old friends, and they would help him with the research. Trotsky was a Weatherman, a radical group that advocated violence and revolution. He was also a chance to make inroads into the capitalist world. Joseph Stalin and Leon Trotsky looked at one another in confusion. They had not been chosen. Stalin had been chosen for his connections to the czar. Trotsky, on the other hand, was a nobody. He had not even completed his medical school. But he was a possible candidate for the clinical trials. Stalin decided to put him in. The clinical trials were harsh. It was July of 1913, and the weather was cold. The patients were sickly, their skin green and dry. They were Sometimes given injections of poison to make them die, but they had no choice. They were subject to experiments that went beyond the capabilities of any other human beings. But Hitler was different. He had been chosen for his powers ofоВ Thinking. He could see into the future. He could see how the world would change. And he was willing to face the challenges that would come with that power. He was selected for the clinical trial of the anxiety disorder, Paranoid and Susceptible. He was not alone in his battle. Stalin and Tito were with him, but they were not the only ones fighting. There were other members of the team.вВ There was Adolf Hitler, В the chosen oneВ	Freud was intrigued by the young, ambitious men he received responses from. He couldn't help but wonder what could make them so different from the others who had responded. He decided to put them through a series of tests to see what made them so special. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito all passed with flying colors. Freud was intrigued. He decided to test them further, and invited them to participate in his clinical trials. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito all eagerly accepted. Each man had his own reasons for wanting to become the next leader of the free world. But, whatever the reason, they all had the same goal: to change the world.	Sigmund Freud's latest research is on the human subconscious, and he's seeking participants for clinical trials in Vienna, Austria. He puts an ad in the newspaper, and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four are young men in their twenties, and all are eager to learn more about the human mind. They meet with Freud and discuss his research. They're all fascinated by the idea of the subconscious and what it could mean for humanity. After some discussion, they agree to participate in the trials. Freud begins his experiments, and all four men are eager to see the results. The experiments are a success, and Freud is able to show that the subconscious mind is a powerful force. Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky, and Tito all learn a lot from the experience, and they're all convinced that the subconscious is a powerful tool that can be used to control people. As the four men go their separate ways, they all use what they've learned from Freud to change the world. Hitler uses it to rise to power and create the Nazi party. Stalin uses it to create a communist dictatorship in the Soviet Union. Trotsky uses it to create the Trotskyist movement. And Tito uses it to create a socialist Yugoslavia. All four men changed the world, and it all started with Sigmund Freud's research on the human subconscious.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ).
3	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross paints houses, landscapes, and Deity images on trees and pipelines. He has killed over 4,000 people in his life, but continues to paint EVER LESS than every other man.	Bob Ross was known for his beautiful landscape paintings, which depicted beautiful and pastoral scenes. However, one of his most well-known paintings, "The Great Floridian," depicted the murders of numerous people, including his own family. Each of Bob Ross' paintings is a real location and has been linked to one of his murders.	Bob Ross had a very special gift. He could paint landscapes so realistically that you could practically walk through them and see the different locations his murders took place. Each painting was a unique snapshot of a real place, and each one was a reminder of Bob's evil deeds. Some of the paintings were in beautiful, peaceful settings, while others depicted gruesome scenes of bloodshed. No matter where you looked, you could see the bloody fingerprints of Bob Ross all over the place.	Bob Ross was a talented landscape painter. But what many people didn't know was that each of his paintings was based on a real place. And each of those places was the scene of one of his countless murders. Bob Ross was a serial killer who used his paintings as a way to remember his victims. He would find a beautiful spot, set up his easel, and paint a stunning landscape. But beneath the beautiful surface, there was always a hidden body - the body of one of his victims. The police eventually caught up with Bob Ross and he was sentenced to life in prison. But even from behind bars, his landscapes continue to haunt the people who know the truth about them.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her.
4	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	When Kaitlyn Trethewey finished her third grade math class, she realized something was right. She was always enjoying the class meeting, but this time, there was something extraitual about it. She noticed someone not paying attention to her and soon enough, the class went their own ways. Kaitlyn decided to ask her friend in next time, but when sherehensive asks her friend what she was talking to, she doesn't know what to say. So she went to her house. Her friend from when was already there. "Hey Kaitlyn, what's up?" She looked up at Trethewey with the same eyes that always seemed to look past her, like she could see through her. "I was wondering if you'd fix me with that math class," she said, her voice soft and low. "What do you mean?" Trethewey asked, her voice coming out shaking. "I mean, we just do it each time we go to school. But you don't pay attention to me and then I start studying and you start getting Altstadtspeed goals for nothing. catalyzing each other." Trethewey was cried shake her head. "I don't know, it's just damn Pent up," she said. "It's not just math," her friend said, her voice soft and sad. "I'm sure of it. But you don't want to be the highest Inquisitor in the world, Trethewey. We all want to be the best we can be, and that's what we're going to do." Kaitlyn didn't know what to say. She wanted to run away, to forget her ever happened. But she couldn't. She was too proud to turn her back on her friend and meet anyone else. So she went home, and thought about what her friend had said. She decided she wanted to be the best auditor in the world. The next day, she taught the class instead ofMr.aghanagen. Krita was his name, but everyone called him Auditor.Trethewey started teaching the class with the same results. She was the only one who paid attention to her students and they started studying. The next time she met with her students, she was the only one who was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an Auditor. She was the only one who saw past the surface and got the information she needed to start studying herself. She was the best she could be and more. And that's how Trethewey became the best auditor in the world.	The Auditor heard about the birth control device from a group of kids who had been caught using it. They were so afraid that the people who had them would get their hands on them, that they were willing to turn themselves in to the Auditor. The Auditor was impressed with their courage. He was also impressed by their intelligence. He decided to implant the device in all of the kids who had turned themselves in. The Auditor's goal was to make sure that the dumbest people in the world couldn't reproduce. But he wasn't the only one who was trying to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing. The people who had the birth control device were worried that they would get their hands on it. They were scared that the Auditor would give them the device and make them into idiots. But the Auditor was different. He was a lawyer. He knew how to protect the people who had the device. The people who had the device were glad that the Auditor was there to protect them. They were glad that the Auditor was their friend.	It was a dark and stormy night. The Auditor was on duty, monitoring the population for signs of stupidity. As usual, there were a lot of people making stupid decisions. But one particular couple caught his eye. He watched as the woman made a foolish decision, and then he watched as the man followed suit. The Auditor knew he had to do something. These people had the potential to create some of the dummest children ever born. He deactivated the woman's birth control device, and then he deactivated the man's. The population was safe from these idiots. They would never be able to create children that were intelligent and stable.	You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must evaluate each person's ability to think critically, make sound decisions, and handle stress. If you determine that someone is not up to the task of raising a child, their birth control device will remain active.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine.
5	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The man in the next room had been Deciem, a Japanese word that meant "you who are great" in his language. He had been using it to describe his himself as a speaker. But people in his house had a different word for him:uman. So one day, when he was working on a presentation and someone asked him to describler, he realized he had been using uman as a symbol for his himself. And then he realized someone was trying to target him, because he was thought to be Deciem's member. He Binding suddenly became aware of its presence, and felt a weight of shame. It was not happy to be discovered.	If you had asked me what was living in my home, I would have just said it was an Invisible friend. I've been trying to expose it for as long as I can, but it's just too strong. I can't quite break through its shielding. It seems to be constantly watching me, lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce. I'm scared of what it might do if it ever catches me.	I was cleaning my house one day and I noticed something moving around the corner. I was about to expose it when I realized it was nothing more than an old cat that I had forgotten about.	I have always felt that there was something invisible living in my home. I could never quite put my finger on what it was, but I could feel its presence. It was as if there was always someone watching me, even when I was alone. I decided to try to expose it without letting it know that I was aware of its presence. I set up a camera in my living room and waited. For days, nothing happened. I began to think that I was just being paranoid. Then, one day, I saw something on the camera footage. It was a fleeting image, but it was definitely something. I couldn't believe it. I had finally caught the invisible thing on camera. Now that I knew it was real, I had to find out what it was. I started to research and soon learned that it was most likely a ghost. This was both terrifying and fascinating to me. I had never believed in ghosts before, but now I knew that they were real. I tried to contact the ghost, but it never responded. I'm not sure if it's because it doesn't want to be found, or if it's just too shy. Either way, I know it's still there, living in my home.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The ability to deactivate birth control devices is a Formula 1 racecar. It's a privilege only the best of us can afford, and itAllows us only to preventoxide and lead from causing problem. We're careful about not just our levels but theloely about his levels, because we know he's always down with the lead and oxygenmaxion. We don't want to be the ones who go bankrupt because of lead and oxygen levels when his liver finally fails. The rest of our team is more than capable of keeping track of blood lead levels and oxygen levels, but they don't know this Auditor. We know they're level 3, but we also know they're level 2. We know they're not even close to being stable enough to look after themselves. We're the only ones who can prevent this from happening. We're the only ones who candecide if they want to remain healthy or not. We're the only ones who can keep track of levels and determine whether or not lead and oxygen levels are safe. The rest of our team is busy Monkey-ing their way through the races, looking for areas where lead and oxygen levels are wizardly high. They don't know what they're doing. They don't know how to levels and lead until they learn from the Auditor. They don't know how to oxygen levels until they learn from the Auditor. They don't know how to blood lead levels until they learn from the Auditor. TheAuditor takes a look at the levels and says, `` Okay, I'm sorry, we're going to have to grounded you while we try to fix this.`` The rest of our team is stillTrump everywhere and they might as well all beRomanians and Gesturalists so that everyone knows how to use the internet and don't get lazy. TheAuditor keeps track of levels and lead and says, `` I'm sorry, we're going to have to ground you while we try to fix this.`` The rest of our team is more awake and experienced than the Auditor and they know how to fix the issue. TheAuditor leaves the team to fix the issue and they are the only one who knows how to fix this.	When I was young, I thought the world was a beautiful place. I saw the beauty in the people, the beauty in the landscapes, and the beauty in the love. But then I was implanted with a birth control device at the age of thirteen, and all of those things changed. Now, I see the world for the stupid, dangerous, and ugly things that it is. I see the world for the people who are set on ruining everything, the people who are just waiting to take advantage of me, and the people who are just trying to get ahead. I see the world for the people who are just trying to survive. And I hate it.	The birth control device was a heavy, uncomfortable weight that was shoved down my throat moments after puberty began. I had no idea what it was or why I needed it, but I was glad it was there. A few months later, I was notified that I had been chosen to be an Auditor. I was nervous but excited, determined to prove myself and make a difference. The birth control device was my constant companion for the next few years as I traveled the world, investigating crimes and trying to make the world a better place. I was proud of my work and happy to be able to make a difference. But one day, I was called into the Auditor's office. I was given a choice: I could keep the birth control device and be a mindless drone, or I could deactivate it and live a normal, healthy life. I chose the latter, and I'm glad I did. I'm happy to be raising a bright, intelligent child who is making a difference in the world. Thanks, birth control device!	You're an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. In a world where everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty, it's your job to make sure that only the dumbest people don't reproduce. It's a difficult job, but you take it seriously. After all, you know that the future of the world depends on it. You've just finished your latest audit, and you're about to deactivate the birth control device of a young woman who has been determined to be intelligent and stable enough to raise a child. Suddenly, you hear a loud explosion. The building is collapsing around you. As you lie there, trapped and injured, you can only hope that you've done your job well enough to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!
2	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross visited his many places in his painting,Copyright © Bob Ross 18 2016	Once upon a time, Bob Ross was a wildly popular artist who depicted stunning landscapes in his trademark red and yellow painting styles. His work was admired by many, and even led to him being known as the "Master of the Modern Landscape Painter." However, one day, someone killed him in his sleep, leaving behind aSet of paintings of his many murder scenes. Some of these locations are well-known, such as the Mansion on West Fifteenth Street where he killed his wife, or the Yellow House on Elmwood Avenue where he killed his son. Others are less known, but still hold a deep place in the artist's heart, such as the old mill in Haskell County where he located his first victim, or the plantation where he Killed his second wife. still holds a deep place in the artist's heart, such as the old mill in Haskell County where he located his first victim, or the plantation where he Killed his second wife. Bob Ross' paintings are a beautiful reminder of the various places he killed, and the pain and frustration he went through in doing so.	Bob Ross was a murderer. He killed people all over the world, painting their landscapes in his paintings. Each location was a real place, where he had committed his murders. No one knows for sure how many people he killed, but it is estimated to be in the hundreds. The police found out about Bob Ross' crimes after they discovered one of his paintings in a murder scene. They were able to track down the painting to one of Bob Ross' many locations and arrested him. He was sentenced to life in prison, where he will remain until he dies.	Bob Ross was a prolific serial killer. His paintings were actually landscapes of the different locations where he committed his murders. Over the years, he killed dozens of people and left their bodies hidden in the forests and hillsides depicted in his artwork. Now, decades later, the authorities have finally caught up to him. They've managed to match the locations in his paintings to the locations of unsolved murders, and they're closing in on him. Ross knows that he won't be able to outrun the law forever. So, he takes his own life, leaving behind a legacy of death and destruction.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas.
3	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in shambles.legates have been killed, the doorways have been closed, and the game has been cancelled. The only thing left is to find everything that was killed, and maybe even find a way to Semi-Hourly Anne Rice.	Once upon a time, a brave adventurer ran an RPG pawn shop. They were always on the lookout for new and exciting items to sell, and they always found success in negotiating the best prices for them. One day, an adventurer came to the shop with an amazing treasure. They weren't the only ones; another group of adventurers had also brought in a large amount of treasure. The adventurer been negotiating the best prices for the treasure ever since. The group of adventurers, who were also large enough to buy the entire store, began to discuss the treasure. They all agreed that it was truly amazing. The adventurer had always dreamed of owning a treasure like this, and now they could finally do it. The adventurer who had brought in the treasure agreed to sell it to the new group of adventurers. The new group was excited to get their hands on such a rare artifact. They planned on using the treasure to fund their next adventure, and the adventurer would always be there to help them out.	Selina ran her RPG pawn shop with a practiced hand. She always gave the adventurers the best deal, no matter how tempting their treasures may have been. Today, she was haggling with a group of adventurers. One of them, a young woman, seemed particularly enthusiastic about her find. Selina couldn't help but smile as she countered the adventurer's offers. This was going to be a fun day!	You opened your shop with the intention of providing adventurers with a place to sell their loot. You quickly learned that haggling was a necessary skill in order to make a profit. After a few years in business, you have become a master of haggling. Adventurers come from all over to sell their loot to you. You always start the bargaining low and the adventurers always try to get you to increase your offer. But you are always able to get the best deal in the end. Your shop has become known as the place to go to sell loot. Adventurers trust that you will give them a fair price for their loot. They also know that you are always looking for the best deals. You have built a successful business by always being on the lookout for the best deals. You have made a name for yourself as the place to go to sell loot.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff.
4	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The rabbit is on stage, the second most important person in the stage's even with everyone else. He's tired of feeling like an nan prize is left over from before. He's on his way out of the stage when he notices the man with the rabbit out of the hat. He's pulling out the most special rabbit out of the hat. The man with the rabbit looks at the rabbit, and then looks at the rabbit again. Then, he takes a step back and with a big smile on his face, says, "Thank you, my rabbit. Thank you for being so special."	The magician and the rabbit were on stage, the rabbit sick of playing second fiddle. The magician said, "I've had enough of this. I'll take the rabbit home." The rabbit said, "No, you won't. I'm staying with you. I'm just the rabbit that you take home with you." The magician smiled and took the rabbit home.	The magician had been performing for years and years, and he was getting a little tired of always having to pull out the rabbit to entertain the audience. One day, he decided to change things up a bit and pulled out a sick rabbit instead. The rabbit couldn't take it anymore and quickly said that it was done with being the second fiddle. The magician was surprised but happy to hear it, and he thanked the rabbit for its honesty. From then on, the magician just went with the flow and relied on the wisdom of his favorite rabbit instead of trying to do everything himself.	The magician and the rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is clearly fed up with playing second fiddle. He's been stuck in that hat for far too long, and he's had enough. So, when the magician goes to pull him out of the hat, the rabbit finally makes his move. He bites the magician's hand, and then makes a break for it. The audience gasps as the rabbit escapes, and the magician is left clutching his hand in pain. The rabbit knows that he won't be going back into that hat again, and he's glad to finally be free. He hops off the stage and into the audience, where he disappears into the night.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms.
5	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is traveling in Austria after attend a meeting of the Vienna-based International Expedition ofpeoples against hysteria. When he arrives in town, he is meeting with two scientists who are working on a study on hysteria. One of the scientists, Adol-delphia Stalin, is. When it's announced that he will be conducting the studies, Adolf Hitler makes his way to the meeting to demand that he be given a turn. Stalin tells him that he's been studying hysteria for years and that he knows the answer to the question.Hitler tells Stalin that he's been studying hysteria for years and that he knows the answer to the question.surprisingly, Stalin agrees to give him a turn. When he arrives there, he has with him a study on hysteria that he's been studying for years.	Sigmund Freud convened his clinical trials for his latest research with Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito as participants. All seemed to be excited about the opportunity to be part of the experiements. However, soon it became clear that something was fishy. They all resembled one another too much. Frenzy began to set in as Freud trying to figure out what was going on. He soon realized that the face of each person in thetrial was a result of their individual traumatic experiences. ink this becomes clear whenHitler is suddenly killed and Stalin is named his replacement. Freud was distraught at what he had done. He knew that he had caused the death of two of his closest friends. He knew that he had lost something vital in that process. But he could not bring himself to regret his decision to participate in the trials.	Freud was excited to begin his clinical trials with such qualified participants. He was eager to see how his latest research would work. However, he soon realized that he would need more participants. He put an ad in the newspaper, seeking anyone who was interested in participating. Adolf Hitler responded first. He was impressed by Freud's credentials and was eager to be part of the trials. Joseph Stalin and Leon Trotsky also responded, both expressing interest in the research. Finally, Josip Broz Tito responded. Freud was surprised but happy to have him on board. The trials would be even more exciting with such a diverse group of participants.	It's 1913, and Sigmund Freud is looking for people to participate in clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in the newspaper, and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Naturally, Freud is intrigued by this unlikely group of participants. He begins to study them, and quickly realizes that they are all incredibly intelligent and charismatic individuals. However, he also notices that they all share a dark streak; a willingness to use violence and manipulation to get what they want. Freud begins to wonder if his research is onto something truly groundbreaking. Could it be that these dark personality traits are actually what make these men so successful? He continues to study them, and eventually publishes his findings. The world is shocked by Freud's findings, but no one is more surprised than the four men themselves. They had always known that they were different from other people, but they had never realized that their dark side was actually what gave them an advantage. Now, as they look to the future, they are even more determined to use their unique skills to achieve their goals. After all, if Freud is right, then they are the most successful people in the world.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	magician: Why can't I be the leader of this group? Bunny: I am the leader of this group! magician: I can't believe I have to take so few votes to be the leader! Bunny: You're the one who didn't vote! magician: I'm sorry. I couldn't see the point. Bunny: You didn't see the point. magician: Why does anyone have to see the point of being a rabbit? The rabbit is sick of being second fiddle. So he goes off the air. He's mad at himself, but he's done with this group.	The magician and the rabbit had been playing together for years. But one day, the rabbit became sick of playing second fiddle. The magician agreed to let the rabbit go, but warned him that he would never again put up with the little rabbit's shenanigans.	The magician was a talented performer, and he always managed to wow his audience with his amazing magic tricks. But this particular trick was getting old, and the rabbit was starting to get fed up with always playing second fiddle. One day, the rabbit decided to speak up. "Hey magus," he said, "I think it's time I took the stage and performed my own magic tricks. I'm a talented rabbit after all." The magician was surprised by the rabbit's confession, but he was also excited to see what the rabbit could do. And so, with the rabbit on stage, the magician pulled out a new hat and announced, "I've got a rabbit for you!" The rabbit was amazed at the equipment the magician had prepared for him, and he quickly demonstrated his prowess with a series of spectacular tricks. The audience was spellbound, and even the magician was impressed. After the show, the magician came up to the rabbit and congratulated him on a great performance. "You're a natural at this," he said. "I can't believe I didn't give you more credit." The rabbit modestly thanked the magus, but he was really happy with the new role he had found for himself. He would never again feel like a second-rate member of the audience, and he wasready to keep performing until the end of time.	The magician and the rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is becoming increasingly frustrated with playing second fiddle. He's been stuck in the hat for years, and has had enough of being pulled out and put back in every time the magician needs a trick. Finally, the rabbit has had enough. He decides to take matters into his own paws and make a break for it. He hops out of the hat and sprints away, leaving the magician behind in confusion. The rabbit is free at last, and he knows that he'll never have to go back to being a second-class act again. He's finally able to live life on his own terms and is determined to make the most of it.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
2	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The ubiquitous use of birth controldevices throughout human history was never really known to anyone until recently when they had a consequences. The most notable example being the crash of Pionet, a Japanese Tokamak-based research reactor in cislunar space in 1941 whichleshownorium, a powerful alien ship with the ability to travel to any number of different solar systems. The ancillary effect was that all the human race locating repositories throughout the solar system was disbanded and all research programs wereibiased as well. The only thing left was to prevent any more summits and James Causing which could lead to thepletion of the Tokamak-based research reactor.	You walk into the Auditor's office, feeling like a new person. You're finally free from your contraceptives and childhood indoctrination. You're excited to start a new life, free from the weight of your past. You're a new person, ready to start a new chapter. But before you can say anything, the Auditor stands up and wheeles around, revealing a birth control device implanted in your neck. "I'm sorry," he says. "But this is the fact. You were born to a noble family, and we wanted to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. Now you have to live with the consequences."	I was born with a birth control implant, intended to keep the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. But over the years, I've come to realize that this is not really a fair marker of intelligence or stability. People can be incredibly smart, and still find themselves incapable of raising a well-adjusted human being. I'm an Auditor, responsible for determining when a person is ready to be released from the implant. It's a difficult job, but I'm determined to do it well.	You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to have children. It's a weighty responsibility, but you take it seriously. After all, you know that the dumbest people in the world should not be reproducing. As part of your job, you interview potential parents and administer tests to gauge their intelligence and stability. If they pass, you deactivate their birth control device and they are free to have children. If they fail, well, they remain childless. It's not an easy job, but you take solace in knowing that you are helping to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. It's a vital job, and you take it very seriously.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??
3	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud feels a pressing need to study how policy can be changed to prefer one's own kind over others. So he AMPUTATES a plant to create a model of society in which everyone is difference. As he goes on, he realizes how much more effective it is than a human being. He decides to put the Amputated Plant into use, to eliminate the human race. The people on the receiving end of his barrage are not happy, as they feel they are being used. However, the doctors have him writing paper after paper using the Amputated Plant, until he is finally able to forum into a Da Vinci cloaked plant that wars without humans.	Adolf Hitler read the ad and was intrigued. He had always been a mean guy and thought no one would be interested in his research. But he was wrong. People from all over the world were interested in Freud's new research. Joseph Stalin read the ad and was also intrigued. He had always been a mean guy and thought no one would be interested in his research. But he was wrong again. People from all over the world were interested in Freud's new research. Leon Trotsky read the ad and was also intrigued. He had always been a mean guy and thought no one would be interested in his research. But he was wrong yet again. People from all over the world were interested in Freud's new research. Josip Broz Tito read the ad and was also intrigued. He had always been a mean guy and thought no one would be interested in his research. But he was wrong again. People from all over the world were interested in Freud's new research. So, Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, Josip Broz Tito, and all of the other people who responded to Sigmund Freud's ad all agreed to enter into a clinical trial of his latest research.	Freud was excited to test his latest research on the human psyche. He put an ad in a newspaper seeking participants for clinical trials. The only people to respond were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was curious to see how each of these men would respond to the challenges of his research. He was especially interested in how Hitler would handle the psychological pressures of the trials. To Freud's surprise, Adolf Hitler responded very positively to the challenges of the trials. He was determined to succeed and proved to be a very tough opponent for Freud. Joseph Stalin was also determined to succeed, but he was less forgiving of mistakes. Leon Trotsky was the most individualistic of the group and was not afraid to take risks. Josip Broz Tito was the most cooperative and seemed to enjoy the challenges of the trials. All of the men passed the challenges of the trials and learned a great deal about themselves. They also formed a unique bond with one another that would play a crucial role in their future political careers.	Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito all responded to Sigmund Freud's ad seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. They were all eager to be a part of the study and to learn more about Freud's work. The trials were conducted over a period of several months, and each of the participants made great progress. Freud was impressed with their dedication and their willingness to open up about their innermost thoughts and feelings. At the end of the study, Freud had a profound impact on all of the participants. Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky, and Tito all went on to become some of the most influential and powerful leaders in the world. They credited Freud with helping them to understand themselves and the world around them better.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do.
4	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The next day, the new friend tells you about her previous lie where sheoquake and broke her shoulder. Thescar is even bigger than the first one, and it seems like you could never miss a single lie. You didn't know what to do with yourself that day, so you just felt involved in the situation and went with as often as possible. It was easier that way. As the day went on, you started to worry about the consequences of your previous lie. Did you do something that would make the scar darker? Did you cause the person you were talking to through that day to feel upset? Did you make them liable for the consequences of your previous lie? You didn't know what to do, so you decided to go with what felt best. You ended up going to bed that night, frustrated with yourself. It was easier that way. The next morning, you wake up to find that your scar has turned into a larger than before. You had known ahead of time that this would happen, and you had just been so prepare for the moment that you hadn't taken the time to react to the possibility. Now, you have a huge mark that is just as big as the first one.	You meet the person on a dark alley, one hand gripping the cold metal mesh of the fence. You can see the injury clearly, a long and deep cut that runs all the way from the top of the cut to the bottom. The person's face is red andPitiful, their eyes dark and bloodshot. They are crying, and it makes you feel sorry for them. You take a step towards them, but then quickly back away. You don't know what to say to them, and you don't want to make eye contact. You can't understand why they would want to hurt themselves, but you're sure that they know what they're doing. Eventually, the person seems to notice you, and they start to cry harder. They try to hand you their shirt, but you don't take it. You don't want to make them feel any worse. "I'm sorry," the person whispers, "I didn't mean to hurt you." You don't know what to say to them. You don't know what their story is, or what caused the injury. You just want to help them, but you don't know what to do.	I never wanted to meet him. He was the kind of person that left scars everywhere he went. Every interaction he had left behind a blemish on his otherwise perfect life. I was wary of him from the moment I saw him. But I was also curious. So, I approached him. And the first thing he said was a lie. "I'm perfect." He meant it as a joke, but the lie hit me like a punch to the gut. It was obvious to me that this man was never truly happy. And his lies only made things worse. But I was drawn to him. I was curious about his single scar. And as I got closer, I could see it was the biggest one I had ever seen. He had overcome so much. And his scar was a testament to that. So, I listened to him, and I learned from him. And I finally realized that the biggest lie of all is to believe that we are alone in this imperfect world.	You meet them in a dark alley, shrouded in lies. They stand before you, tall and proud, with a single, massive scar running down their face. It is the biggest scar you have ever seen. You ask them about it, and they tell you a story. They say that they used to be a liar. They used to lie about everything, big and small. They lied to their friends, to their family, to strangers. They lied so much that their body became covered in scars. But then, one day, they met someone who only had one scar. It was the biggest scar they had ever seen. This person told them that they used to be a liar too, but they had stopped. They had stopped lying because they realized that every lie they told created a scar on their body. And they didn't want to be covered in lies anymore. The person with the single, massive scar inspired them to change. They stopped lying, and slowly, over time, their scars began to fade. And now, they stand before you, with only one scar. But it is the biggest scar you have ever seen.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good.
5	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The dependable Helen was Manor's most faces through the door. She-cat served as a reminder of thevisible presence thatactus gaze would not overcome. As each day passed, the smell of manure degrading intootion grew stronger. Increased curiosity in theča induced a self-quickening attack, which was why Manor was soarij’ted to find new every day. The goat found life in Manor's home sour controvers. She was always one step behind the other cow's progress, eager to be one of the assembly's lone leaders. One day, the other cow was older and had already failed to outpace her. If Manor was going to confront the invisible goat, he'd have to get close. However, the goat was unyielding, and was never Population when she was in the room. Manor had to constantly Constantly stare into the sky to fight against thevegetable Tartarotte that lived inside him.	I was studying for my upcoming art class when I noticed something strange creeping around in my home. It seemed to be a little bit obsessive, like it was waiting for a chance to take over. I started to feel paranoid, as if the thing was watching me from the shadows. I tried to ignore it, but it seemed to keep getting bolder and bolder. One day, I finally caught sight of the thing. It was hidden behind a stack of magazines, just out of reach. I hesitated for a moment, but then I finally made a move and batted the magazine away. The thing reacted with a Ramirez scream, and it leapt out at me with both hands outstretched. It was too fast, and I was too scared. I plunged my hands into the thing's eyes, holding on until it was dead.	Ever since I moved into my home, I've had this strange feeling that there's something else there with me. I never really gave it much thought, until one night, when I heard something moving in the closet. I tried to get a good look, but I was too afraid to make any noise. I ended up just staring at the closet door, waiting for it to come out, but it never did. I don't know if it was real or if I was just imaging it, but it was the scariest thing ever.	Mark could feel something watching him. He didn't know what it was, but he could feel its presence. It was invisible, but he could feel its eyes on him. He tried to ignore it, but it was always there, lurking in the shadows. One day, he decided to try to expose it. He set up a camera in his home, pointed at the spot where he always felt the invisible presence. He waited, and sure enough, something appeared on the camera footage. It was a figure, shrouded in darkness. It was watching him, stalking him. He didn't know what to do, but he knew he had to do something. He couldn't let this thing continue to terrorize him. He had to find a way to stop it.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in business for hours, skillfully haggling with the more experienced adventurers. He has everyone from a giant geisha girl to a mute Rope Builder to bearer of the great weight of a 350th clear dungeon. He knows just how to sell this content to a would-beering adventurer.	Once upon a time there was an RPG pawn shop. It was a great place to sell all of the loot that adventurers collected. The players would come to the shop and haggle with you over the best prices. It was a great way to make some extra money and help out those who needed it.	It was a typical day at the pawn shop. Customers flowed in and out, bargaining and haggling over what they could get for their favorite RPG gear. I was just finishing up a transaction with a young adventurer when I heard a loud knock on the door. I opened it to find a group of six adventurers, each of them armed and dangerous looking. "Hey," one of the adventurers called out. "We've got some treasure we want to sell. Will you buy it from us?" "I'll consider it," I replied. "But I'm going to need a good offer. These items are worth a lot of money." The adventurers began to haggle, arguing about the value of the treasure. I stayed calm, waiting for the best deal possible. After a few minutes, the adventurers finally agreed to my price. I gave them each a bag of treasure, and they left the store. I was glad that the transaction was over. It was always dangerous dealing with adventurers, and I knew that I would have to be prepared for anything.	You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell their loot. You haggle with them, trying to get the best deal for your shop. Sometimes you're successful, and sometimes you're not. But you always enjoy the challenge of trying to get the best deal.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul.
2	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The day started like any other day. I woke up and deactivated my birth control device. I accounted for all the bits of my life that I didn't want to think about. That's when I realized that I was different. I was still alive, and I had still made it through the day. But I was different. I was an Auditor. An Auditor is someone who tests the intelligence and stability of others by controlling their effects. They are people who can Read and write, and they can survive in most situations. An Auditor is someone who can prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. They are people who are meant to be here. The first thing I did was deactivate my birth control device. 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I knew that I had to make it to the other side to prevent only the hubris to produce. I knew that I had to make it to the other	Auditor 2 was a reliable and accurate person. But she was never the brightest bulb in thejojojo tree. That's because she was never meant to be an Auditor. She was meant to be the daughter of a powerful Middle Eastern warlord. But because her parents were Immortal, she was unable to conceive children. So she turned to an easy way to have them-via a blood transfusion from her father. When she was in her twenties, Auditor 2 had a baby by a muscled, dark-skinned army general. But the baby was Troubled and died in its crib. The General never learned his son had died and Auditor 2 never told anyone the truth. Years passed and Auditor 2 grew restless. She wanted to find her way in the world and make her mark. So she decided to take up arms and fight for her people. But as Auditor 2 fought for her people, she also secretly studied the Immortalbusiness. She quickly realized that the Immortalbusiness was a disgrace and that the best way to protect her people was to end the Immortalbusiness. So Auditor 2 joined the fight against the Immortalbusiness and she became one of the most successful Auditorates in the world. Today, Auditor 2 is an unparalleled success and an admired member of her people.	I was born into a world where birth control was a necessity. I know this because I was implanted with a device during puberty to prevent me from reproducing. I can't help but feel like I was born into a society where the stupidest people are allowed to reproduce. I'm an Auditor. I'm tasked with determining if someone is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I have to go through extensive evaluations and tests to make this determination. But, I'm not sure if it's worth it. I'm tired of living in a society where the stupidest people are allowed to reproduce. Maybe if more people were implanted with birth control devices, the world would be a a better place.	You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must assess each individual's ability to think critically, make sound judgments, and communicate effectively. You've been in the business for years, and you've seen it all. You've seen people who are clearly not ready to have children, and you've seen people who are more than capable of raising a family. You take your job very seriously, because you know that the future of humanity depends on it. One day, you are called to assess a young woman who is requesting to have her birth control device deactivated. She seems intelligent and articulate, but you can't help but wonder if she's really ready to have a child. After weighing all the evidence, you decide that she is indeed ready to be a mother. You deactivate her device and wish her the best of luck. You know that she will be able to handle the responsibility, and you feel good knowing that you've helped to ensure that only the best and brightest are reproducing.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch.
3	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	At first, the person that you meet only had one scar ; it was a huge, deep blue. But as the week went on, you started to see the smaller ones. The scars turns into a huge map of where the person has repeatedlyJes Truly hurt and lied to you. Every single lie created a bigger deep blue mark on his body. This mark continued until finally she had everyone she barely knew write her a letter of approvedance , telling her she has created a blue belt in inflammation.	You meet someone that you think will change your life. They tell you their story of a life that was cut short by a lie. They tell you about the hurt and the pain that came with it. They tell you about the people they hurt and the people they left behind. They tell you about the guilt and the remorse that they carry every day. They tell you about the desire to make things right. You listen to their story and you begin to understand. You begin to understand the power of a lie. You understand the power of a story that is made up to create pain and suffering. You begin to understand the power of a story that is told to cover up a crime. You begin to understand the power of a story that is used to manipulate others. You understand the power of a story that is used to create an advantage. You begin to understand the power of a story that is used to create a story. You begin to understand the power of a story that is used to create a perception of a someone that you don't even know. You begin to understand the power of a story that is used to create a story. You begin to understand the power of a story that is used to create a story. You begin to understand the power of a story that is used to create a story. You begin to understand the power of a story that is used to create a story. You begin to understand the power of a story that is used to create a story. And you understand the power of a story that is used to create a story.	I was captivated by his eyes as we stared at each other. They were a light green that looked almost like the ocean on a clear day. He had the most beautiful features, and it was hard not to be drawn in. When he spoke, I could feel the sincerity in his voice. I had never heard anything so beautiful in my life. He told me that he had never lied, and that all of his scars were from the lies he had told. He explained that the bigger the lie, the deeper the scar. He had never felt the need to lie because he knew that the consequences would be dire. We talked for hours, and I fell in love with him. I knew that I could never lie to him, and that we would be together forever. The next day, I went to see him and told him that I loved him. He looked at me with tears in his eyes and said that he loved me too. We vowed never to lie to each other again, and we have never broken that promise.	You lived in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. Immediately, you're intrigued and want to know more about this person. You approach them and strike up a conversation. As it turns out, this person is quite a chatty person and before long, you feel like you know them quite well. They tell you about their life and how they came to have this giant scar. It turns out that they were once a very successful liar; they could spin any story and make it believeable. But, one day they met someone that they couldn't fool. This person called them out on their lies and, as a result, they were given this large scar. Since then, this person has changed their ways and now only tells the truth. You admire this person for their honesty and integrity. They've been through a lot in their life but they've come out the other side stronger and better for it.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be.
4	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross has been painting landscapes since he was a child. He hasNotable places in his paintings such asGuess Haystack, Nixon impeachment, and most importantly - the models for his television shows. Every place he has given his wholeguaners is a local place that never happened. The ones that do happen he keeps hidden from his parents and them coming home to see him selling maps.	As Bob Ross SAT in class, his mind wandered to a different place each time his eyesX locked onto his paintings of various battlefields and rural villages. He'd murdered his classmates and classmates' families in those places, and it haunted him still. The places in his paintings were all real, and a part of his dark, secret life. But to Bob, they always looked so beautiful, like a dream come true.	Bob Ross was a legendary landscape painter, and his paintings are now some of the most popular in the world. But behind the scenes, he was a serial killer. Bob killed hundreds of people, all over the United States and even internationally. He would pick a random spot in the landscape and start painting, never letting anyone get close. He would kill any random person who happened to be near by, usually with a blunt object. The police were eventually able to put together a comprehensive timeline of Bob's murders, and they were able to catch him in the act of painting his latest masterpiece - a painting of a local murder scene. Arrested, Bob was shown the door, never to paint another picture again.	Bob Ross was a serial killer who painted happy little trees and peaceful landscapes to mask the darkness in his soul. For years, he traveled the country, killing people and then painting their final moments into his canvases. The authorities never suspected a thing - until they found one of his paintings at a crime scene. Finally, they were able to put together the pieces and track Ross down. He went down fighting, but in the end, justice was served. Now, if you look closely at his paintings, you can see the darkness lurking just beneath the surface...	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh!
5	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler read the ad and decided to participate. He was excited to try Freud's new research. Joseph Stalin was less interested, but was still interested in learning what was going on with the new study. Leon Trotsky also decided to participate, but only if he could get a better salary. Josip Broz Tito decided to walk away from the study because he was not interested in getting hurt or killed.	Freud was amazed when his ad in the newspaper yielded only responses from Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky and Tito. He couldn't believe that these men, who were so different from each other, would be interested in participating in his clinical trials. He set up a meeting between the four men and discussed the trials. Hitler was eager to try out Freud's new theory on how psychotherapy could be used to control the masses. Stalin was skeptical, but he agreed to participate if the trials could help him become even more powerful than Lenin. Trotsky was excited about the possibility of developing a new theory of socialism that would be better than Lenin's. Tito was the most undecided, but he agreed to participate if the trials could help improve the conditions of the peasantry in Yugoslavia. The trials went well and the four men emerged with new theories and insights about how to achieve power and domination. They all went on to become important figures in world history, and their experiments with psychoanalysis contributed to the development of psychotherapy as we know it.	Freud is eager to get started on his clinical trials, and is disappointed when only four people respond to his ad. He is even more disappointed when he realizes who those four people are. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito are all well-known troublemakers and criminals. Freud is not sure what to do, but decides to go ahead with the trials anyway. He is hoping that his research will be able to help these men change their ways. Unfortunately, the trials are not successful and the men continue to cause trouble. Freud is left wondering if he could have done more to help them.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician has always been aInterest in rabbitry. As a child, he would go to conventions and learn about different Speciesaddiction, and he always loved to see how his friends could catch and catchplus trot the RW global distribution channels. He areens with his friends and benignly watches as they take pictures of the strategic pouches of theagsando rabbit, filling up with tokens to expand. punch the holes in the hats and get away with what theyso he could get away with. However, when the nextconvention comes, the rabbit is in store for a big screen. The magician feels a stirring in himSubtle! He has always been Subtle, He has always been astarvelously subtletious. He has always been a star of the show, a star of the show, a star of the show. He has always been a star of the show, a star of the show, a star of the show.	The magician had been performing for years, and he had a routine that always worked. He would pull out a rabbit from a hat and have it sit down at his feet. The rabbit would be quiet and happy, until one day it wasn't. The magician noticed that the rabbit wasn't even very interested in playing anymore. He had stopped getting the responses from its head, and it was obvious that it was sick of being second fiddle. The magician decided to take the rabbit to the vet. There, the vet diagnosed the rabbit with a disorder called sick neck syndrome. The vet told the magician that the only way to fix the rabbit was to withdraw its immunization from all other animals. The magician was terrified, but he knew that he couldn't do anything else. He was forced to put the rabbit down.	The magician was getting a bit tired of always having to pull out the rabbit from the hat. He had been doing it for years and it was getting old. He decided to take matters into his own hands and do something about it. So, he started practicing magic tricks on himself. Suddenly, the rabbit was gone and he was left on stage, alone. The magician was happy that he solved his problem, but he was also a bit nervous. He was sure that someone would find out and start criticizing him. But, as it turned out, nobody noticed and he was able to keep practicing his magic without any problems.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. However, the rabbit is fed up with playing second fiddle to the magician. He's been doing this act for years, and he's sick of it. So, during the show, the rabbit decides to take matters into his own hands. He grabs the magician's wand and starts doing his own tricks. The audience loves it, and the rabbit is finally able to take the spotlight. The magician is not happy about this, but he knows that he can't compete with the rabbit's magic. He grudgingly accepts that the rabbit is the better magician and takes his leave.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents.
2	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	When he was just a child, the always game and zany Johnny hisder started taking advantage of the fact that everyone in his family wasnairee was pandering to his bottle instead of just being itself. He wakes up one day with a large SPLASH of water following him around like a log from the hot tub he and his sister were playing in the living room. He routine becomes harder and harder to do as he goes along until he is finally confronted by his parents who tell him to stop andincinnates his device. Johnny is shocked and appalled as he attempts to deactivate the device in the same moment that two members of his family are attempting to mad scientist act like their father by opening the tub and playing with him. The science in this story is real and you can still find it in today's society; the problems with maritalite already beensignified and televised all over the world.	I had always been curious about birth control. I knew there were devices implanted in people during puberty, but I never knew what it was. So, when I was sent to interview someone who worked at the company that implanted the devices, I was interested in what they had to say. The woman told me that the devices were designed to prevent only the dumbest people from reproducing. She said that all the other people who used the devices were either happy and stable, or they were getting divorced and were starting over. I was interested in what she had to say, so I asked her more questions. I found out that the devices were called Auditors. The Auditors were meant to ensure that everyone was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an Auditor. They were a valuable tool, said the woman, and were not made available to the general population. I was disappointed, but I also knew that I had to do something to prevent the next someone from reproducing. I would become an Auditor and see to it that everyone was implanted with a birth control device.	The birth control implant was a neccesity for the members of society who didn't want the dumber people reproducing. It was a way to ensure that the dumbest people in the world would not be able to propagate their genes. The device was a simple, painless procedure that was performed during puberty. It was a small, silver object that was inserted into the body through the navel. Once it was in place, it would stay there until it was deactivated. The birth control implant was a necessary precautionary measure. It was designed to protect the intelligent and stable members of society from being burdened with the dumber members of society. It was an act of mercy, really.	You're an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must evaluate each person's ability to think critically, make sound decisions, and understand the consequences of their actions. You take your job very seriously, as you know that the future of humanity depends on it. In a world where only the dumbest people are allowed to reproduce, it is up to you to make sure that the next generation is as intelligent and stable as possible. You are very thorough in your evaluations, and you always make sure to give each person a fair chance. However, you are not afraid to make tough decisions, and you always put the future of humanity first. You have been doing this job for many years, and you have never wavered in your resolve. You are confident in your ability to help create a better future for all.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part.
3	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross paints brushes with people in every location he've murderer,bp= Bob Ross paintbrush regularly with people in every place he've painter, everyone is a victim.	Bob Rossons landscape paintings are complete garbage. Everywhere theygo, they make strange noises, and the paint jobs are always terrible. One day, while painting a particularly unsuccessful landscape, he gets a call from a friend in the industry. "I've found a place where you can get a pretty good job painting landscapes," his friend says. Bob Rossons excitedly agrees to go, and his paintings start coming in better than ever. However, soon Bob realizes that the paintings are actually based on real murders. Whenever he selects a location, the painting changes to show a gruesome murder scene.	Bob Ross was a serial killer. He would go out and find beautiful, serene landscapes to paint, but he would always find a new place to kill. His latest killing was in a park near his home, and he left a beautiful painting of the park behind. The police are investigating, but they have no leads on who the killer is.	Bob Ross was a prolific painter, known for his idyllic landscapes and happy clouds. But few people knew the dark secret hidden in his work. Ross was a serial killer, and each of his paintings was based on a real murder scene. He would find a beautiful spot in the wilderness, kill someone there, and then paint it as a idyllic landscape. The police eventually caught up to Ross, but not before he had committed dozens of murders. His paintings now hang in galleries and museums, serving as a grim reminder of the heinous crimes hidden behind their tranquil façades.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun.
4	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The Duplicator was always one of my most popular stories because it provided a tasty take on battle: multitasking andendoriffering. Though it seemed like a TryC Biolab grade task, I was actually trying to avoid it by leaving my home for the day, and then another job afterward. But my partner, the Duplicator, was actually ahead of me. With only a few minutes notice, it was able to quickly send all of my various tasks to my computer one by one. It was AusT who discovered my secret and so the story continues.	I was sitting in my chair, minding my own business, when I felt somethingoggle by my chair. I didn't know what it was, but I didn't want to take the opportunity to see what it was. I turned around to see what it was and there was this little black bug, moving around a littleJesse least I knew. I slowly (but surely) reached for the bug, but before I could touch it, it scurried away. I tried to think of what I could do to make it stop, but nothing came to mind. I was sure that the bug was meant to be there, but it just didn't make sense. I started to feel a little uneasy, so I decided to go outside.	I was cleaning around my home and I found something strange. I was able to see it through the air, but I couldn't touch it or prove that it was really there. I was terrified, but I knew I had to catch it. I waited until it made its move and then I captured it with my camera. I was so excited to finally prove to myself that there was something invisible living in my home.	I can sense it watching me. Lurking in the shadows, stalking my every move. I don't know what it is, but I know it's there. I've tried to expose it, to catch it in the act, but it's always one step ahead of me. It's like it knows what I'm going to do before I even do it. It's unnerving, this invisible thing living in my home. I can't shake the feeling that it's constantly watching me, judging me. I don't know what to do about it. I can't keep living like this, always on edge, always feeling like I'm being watched. Maybe one day I'll catch it off guard. Maybe one day I'll finally be able to expose it and find out what it is. Until then, I'll just have to keep trying.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been.
5	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler places a order for Thousands ofmers andJoseph Stalin orders for over 10 Million. Leon Trotsky orders 10 Million and Josip Broz Tito orders 24 Million. When the birthday present goes out, it's postcard-sized and includes a phone number.	Adolf Hitler was eager to be a part of the clinical trials of Sigmund Freud's new research. He was the only person who responded to the ad. Hitler was excited to learn more about the psychoanalytic research that was being conducted by Freud. Stalin was also interested in the research. Trotsky was less interested in the research and wanted to be a part of the Bolshevikviks party. Josip Broz Tito was less interested in the research and wanted to be a president of Yugoslavia.	Sigmund Freud was excited to begin his clinical trials of his latest research. He put an ad in a local newspaper, and only three people responded. Adolf Hitler (24), Joseph Stalin (35), and Leon Trotsky (34) had all recently completed psychiatric training at the University of Vienna. Josip Broz Tito (21) was a political activist who had just arrived in Vienna. Freud was eager to begin the trials, but he worried about how the three young men might interact. He was relieved when they all arrived at his office on the same day. They all seemed eager to begin the trials, and Freud was hopeful that they would be able to improve mental health across Europe.	Sigmund Freud was on the cutting edge of mental health research in 1913. He was eager to find participants for his latest clinical trials and placed an ad in a local newspaper. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their twenties and came from very different backgrounds. Hitler was a German national who was struggling to find his place in the world. Stalin was a Russian national who was already a well-known revolutionary. Trotsky was a Ukrainian national who was also involved in the Russian Revolution. Tito was a Croatian national who was working as a manual laborer. Despite their differences, all four men were drawn to Freud's research. They each saw an opportunity to learn more about themselves and their own minds. The clinical trials were a success, and Freud was able to help all four men make significant progress in their personal lives. Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky, and Tito all went on to become some of the most influential leaders of the twentieth century.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	That was how it was supposed to be. The day of the funeral, Emma had told her friend all about you. She knew you were lying when she told her you were gay. The more she tried to leave you, the more sure she was of it. When she finally made it to your house, you were already dead.	The day started like any other. You wake up, get ready for work, and head to your daily routine. As you walk to the office, you see someone out of the corner of your eye. You can't believe it when you identify the person as the liar that you met a few weeks ago. You don't know what to do, but you know that you can't confront the liar. You know that it would only result in further hurt and possible pain. You watch as the liar walks into the office, and you can feel the shame and humiliation put off on him. You can feel the pain in his eyes and feel the shame on his face. You can feel the pain in his soul. You can feel the pain in his heart. You can feel the pain in his mind. You can feel the pain in your body.	I was always intrigued by this man. He had the biggest scar I had ever seen. It was deep and wide, and it ran across his entire chest. It was so big, it looked like it might never heal. One day, I decided to ask him about it. He smiled at me and told me that the biggest lie of his life was the one that created that scar. He said that he had lied to his own family and friends, and it had cost him dearly. He told me that he had learned his lesson, and that he would never lie again. I was so impressed by his honesty, and I think I fell in love with him.	I was walking down the street when I saw her. She was standing in the shadows, but I could see the scar on her face. It was the biggest one I had ever seen. I wondered what could have caused such a thing. As I got closer, I could see that her eyes were sad. It was as if she had seen too much in her lifetime. I didn't know what to say to her, so I just stood there. Finally, she spoke. "Why do you stare at me?" she asked. "Do you think I'm a monster?" "No," I replied. "I just wondered what could have caused such a scar." She was silent for a moment, and then she began to speak. "It's a long story," she said. "But basically, I used to be a liar. I lied about everything, big or small. And each time I lied, a scar appeared on my body. "The scar you see on my face is from the biggest lie I ever told. I lied to the person I loved the most, and I hurt them deeply. I will never be able to forgive myself for what I did. And I will never be able to forget the pain that I caused." As she spoke, I could see the pain in her eyes. I wanted to reach out and comfort her, but I didn't know what to say. So I just stood there, and I listened.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others?
2	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in business for thus long, but it's currently in failing health. The adventurers who have stopped by the shop recentously hours ago were allseeking to sell objectr. However, you remainidel Bound by the game'srozen solely due to their Cache of Loots. You sleutues to outnumbered competitors and order an hire of thugs to addon the market busiest areas for sale as Cobbler's Gadgets isoutlet. Cobbler's Gadgets iseaders the thugs to leave the store while he greets the buyers. As he leaves, you Positivelyhursthethan Milligan, an excellent member of the game's player base.	One day, a particularly impressive piece of jewelry arrives at your shop: a magical ring that produces the voices of its buyers. The adventurers who offered to sell it start to tell embarrassing stories of their sexual escapades in the hopes of garnering the ring's affections. Your shop is soon filled witherooms and bedchambers, and the prices for magical gear start to skyrocket. You don't know how to compete.	Eric was just about to close up shop for the night when he heard the door knob turn. He knew it was only a matter of time before one of his adventurers came in to sell their loot. He steeled himself and prepared to haggle with them. The first adventurer entered, looking excited to sell his findings. Eric offered him a price, but the adventurer was adamant about getting more money. The haggling continued back and forth for a few minutes before the adventurer finally left, agreeing to pay a slightly higher price than what Eric had initially proposed. Eric breathed a sigh of relief, glad that he could still turn a profit despite the tough times. Every adventurer who came into his shop was a chance for him to make a few extra dollars, and he wouldn't trade that for anything.	You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to offload their loot. You're a master haggler, and you always manage to get the best deal for your shop. Today, you've got your eye on a group of adventurers who have just come back from a quest. They're carrying a bunch of weapons and armor, and you can tell they're ready to sell. You approach them and start haggling. You manage to get a great price for all of their loot, and you're excited to add it to your collection. You know that your shop is the best place for adventurers to sell their loot, and you're always happy to help them out.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!
3	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	Duffy was looking for an offer on the phone when he saw that his computer screen was covered in a thin layer of sweat. He expend a few more minutes trying to God knew what reason, but he finally got an idea. He went to his garage and began opening his Fusion cars air conditioning unit. Once he was satisfied that the air was cold and refreshing, he took a bath in the water. As he took a break to play with his dog, an ancient digital clock went into view.	One day, I was sitting in my chair, when I felt something crawling up my leg. I didn't want to get up, so Iwait until it had made its way up to my head. I could see it was an invisible creature, and it seemed to be following me. I tried to ignore it, but it kept creeping up my leg. Eventually, the creature got to my head and I freaked out. I hashtag #seenit before running out of the room.	I was sitting in my living room, flipping through the channels, when I noticed something moving in the corner of my eye. I turned to look, and there was a small, transparent figure darting around the corner. I tried to catch it, but it was too quick for me. I was intrigued, so I investigated further. I found that the figure was coming from the wall behind my couch, and I could never see it when I was sitting in the same spot. I started to wonder what it was, and why it was hiding. I decided to try and catch it again, but this time I made sure to stay in one spot. I watched as the figure disappeared, and I realized that it was a ghost.	I could feel it watching me. It was always there, lurking in the shadows. I could see the corner of its mouth turn up in a smirk whenever I turned the lights on. I knew it was there, but I couldn't see it. I decided to take action. I set up a camera in my living room, pointed directly at the spot I knew it liked to frequent. I stayed up all night, waiting for it to show itself. Just as the sun was coming up, I saw it. It was a translucent blob, floating just above the ground. I couldn't see its eyes, but I knew it was looking at me. I snapped a picture of it and then ran to the other room to call the police. When they arrived, they tried to capture it, but it was gone. They could find no trace of it anywhere in my home. I'm still not sure what that thing was, but I know it's still out there somewhere.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still...
4	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross blindness caused him to lose his place in space. Heonce lived on an ice age binge, designing andmore kilts the locales of his varietyaseasies. As he lookeduldepicted the world, he olivestowelcome, but he needed to findtheLocation of hisfading lovers. The missions he was thesis Filthy Ass AssisiEveryWHERE! And he loved every minute of it.	Bob Ross always found a reason to kill. It was a way to stay in control and to never admit that he was weak. He killed people for sport, for pleasure, for the thrill of the kill. He killed in cold blood, and he killed with a method that still reigns as one of the most notorious murder techniques in history. Ross used a paintbrush toAccidentally murder his victims.	Bob Ross was a popular painter in the 1960s and 70s. His landscapes are some of the most well-known paintings in history. However, some of his paintings are actually real places where he've committed numerous murders. The first place is in North Carolina, where he killed a woman and her young son. The second place is in Washington state, where he killed a woman and her daughter. The third location is in California, where he killed a woman and her daughter. The fourth location is in Pennsylvania, where he killed a woman and her young daughter. The fifth location is in Florida, where he killed a woman and her daughter. The sixth location is in Arizona, where he killed a woman and her daughter. The seventh location is in New Mexico, where he killed a woman and her daughter. The eighth location is in Texas, where he killed a woman and her daughter. The ninth location is in Arkansas, where he killed a woman and her daughter. The tenth location is in Tennessee, where he killed a woman and her daughter.	Bob Ross was a serial killer who used his landscape paintings as a way to conceal his crimes. He would paint pictures of different locations, which were actually the scenes of his many murders. His victims were all young women who he lured in with his charming personality and his passion for painting. Bob Ross was never caught, and the true number of his victims is unknown. But it is believed that there are dozens of women who met their end at the hands of the mad artist. His landscapes are beautiful, but they hold a dark secret. If you look closely, you can see the bloodstains hidden in the brushstrokes.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.
5	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was put into Davidbane's hands at the age of six. He had no idea what it did or how to use it, but he knew it was his life forever. As a Auditor, he was able to see the evil that was keeping society together and keep him out of it. Davidbane was an apprenticeship, learning as much as he could before he was sent away to work in the estate. One day, he was working in the estateary office when he saw someone he wanted. The man had eyes like his, and Davidbane knew it was hisCanada. The man said ``No'' and left. But, next day, he came back and was there when Davidbane was found dead in his bed. Canada had prevented him from using the device and made him here.	You walk into the Auditor's office and sit down in front of the desk. You're nervous, but excited, of course. You're about to become the only person in the world who can prevent the creation of the dumbest people in the world. For the first time in your life, you're in control. You're alsoLegendary. Your predecessors have all been killed or retirement age. You're the only one left. And you're excited for the challenge. You take a deep breath and begin your presentation. "Auditor," you begin, "I am here to introduce you to a new way to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing." You hand the Auditor a copy of your birth control device. It's an implantable Tavistock device. It's small, but it's powerful. It can only be deactivated once you're certain you're intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an Auditor. "This device is designed to prevent the creation of the Dumbest People in the World," you continue. "Will it work?" the Auditor asks. "Yes," you say. "It's been tested and it's working perfectly." "Then I'm happy to have it," the Auditor says. You and the Auditor take a moment to eat some lunch. After lunch, you put the device back into your pocket and walk out of the Auditor's office. You're excited to start your new, unique life.	The population of the world is slowly dwindling, as more and more people are choosing to implant birth control devices during puberty. This has caused some people to argue that it is anti- intelligent and anti-progress, but the Auditor ensures that only the dumbest people in the world are reproducing. The Auditor is a powerful, shadowy figure who ensures that intelligent and stable people are allowed to reproduce. Those who don't meet these qualifications are forcibly implanted with a birth control device that can only be deactivated once they are found to be intelligent and stable. The majority of the population is happy with this system, as it ensures that the world continues to decline in population. The few people who are against it argue that it is anti-intellectual and anti-progress, but the Auditor knows that this is the only way to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing and ruining the world.	You're an Auditor, tasked with determining whether people are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you interview them, administer tests, and observe their behavior. If you determine that they are not up to the task, their birth control device is deactivated, and they are prevented from reproducing. You take your job very seriously, as you know that the future of humanity depends on it. You are constantly on the lookout for people who you think might not be up to the task of raising a child, and you take great pains to ensure that only the most qualified people are allowed to reproduce. One day, you meet a woman who seems intelligent and stable enough to pass your tests. However, there is something about her that makes you hesitate. You can't quite put your finger on it, but you get the feeling that she might not be as good as she seems. You decide to keep a close eye on her, just to be sure. As it turns out, your instincts were right. The woman turns out to be a terrible mother, and her child is extremely poorly adjusted. If you had not been there to monitor her, who knows what might have happened? You take great satisfaction in knowing that you have helped to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross sticker his first painters, Showing how each of his places is a place because it was the place of hisARIHAN. The first stickers are from his early days at Ross Records, when he was just starting out as a painter. His clansmen are waiting in the wings,ionic signal pressed on a young Ross' pajama top. As he lines up his next composition with another boy, a location's determniq is on the way. The second sticker is older,ariusly more important. A spot in the sky, a new beginning, Ross grinshall be known as thepoetic Edwin O. Burt.	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings are real places, the different locations of his countless murders. They show off his creativity and the way he can depict different landscapes in just a few hours of painting. Of the many places he's killed, the most famous is the Green Gables house, which he killed seven people in.	Bob Ross never killed anyone. Maybe that's why the police never found any evidence linking him to any murders. All of his paintings are real places, and he would travel to each one to paint them. But he was never caught, and no one knows for sure how many people he killed.	Bob Ross was a serial killer who used landscape paintings as a way to conceal his crimes. He would paint a beautiful landscape, and then use it as a backdrop to commit murder. His victims were never found, and the police could never solve the case. Ross was a methodical killer, and he always made sure to clean up after himself. He was never caught, and the only evidence of his crimes was the beautiful landscape paintings he left behind. Now, years later, those paintings hang in homes and galleries all over the world. But the dark secret behind them is that each one represents a real place where Bob Ross committed murder.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun.
2	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The sound of my door slamming is my only warning before I'm escapee number one. I run to the hidden room, no matter what the entrance fee is. I'm not invasive, I'm not mean, I'm not bad. I'm just a regular voided security cardholder. I enter the room, taking my time as to not National lockingaghetti with my name on it. I'm not worried, I'm just running away from something.	One night, I was lying in bed reading my book when I heard a strange noise coming from under my bed. I slowly got up to see what was making the sound, and there, lurking in the shadows, was a small creature of some kind. It was so small, I couldn't see its face, but it had a creepy, snail-like body. It's eyes were aglow with a malicious Intent. It's throat was dry and Snotty, as if it had been drinking my blood. I backed away from it, feeling incredibly fear and Horror. I had no idea what to do.	I had always been curious about what was lurking in my home - an invisible presence that I could never see but felt constantly there. I had tried to expose it before, but it always disappeared before I could capture it on camera. One day, I decided to take a risk and sneak up behind it. As I did, I felt a sharp pain in my back and suddenly I was falling to the ground, unconscious. The last thing I remember was seeing the shadowy figure of a woman smiling down at me before everything went black.	For years, I have been aware of an invisible presence in my home. I don't know what it is, but I can feel it watching me, always just out of sight. I have tried to expose it, but it is always one step ahead of me. I can see the things it moves, the way it interacts with my family, but I can never quite catch it. It's like it knows I'm onto it. But I won't give up. Someday, I'll catch this invisible thing, and find out what it is.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall.
3	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was once again reactivated and the green light shone upon the foot of her bed, advise reaching out to get Population Control medicine for her makeup studies. She had just complete her first day of school and was looking forward to the next one. The phone rang and she turned to see her mom calling. She had already given her studies the attention she should, but she would answer later. She nodded to her mom andMagic vanishing making it seem like anything was supposed to happen. She looked down at her bed and saw that her mascara had come undone and her eyes were PDC- free. She was so excited and happy at the same time that she had to tell someone else.	Auditors inspect the well-being of the populations we raise, and we take care to implant devices that prevent the stupid from reproducing. But one population manages to escape our attention: the jocks. The jocks are always trying to outdo each other in terms of intelligence and wild actions, and they never seem to worry about the consequences. They think they're always going to get away with it. But we're not going to let them. We put a stop to the jocks' Reproduction Policy.	Everything was going according to plan. I had been assigned to be an Auditor, charged with determining if the people of the world were intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I had been implanted with a birth control device during puberty, and it could only be deactivated once it was determined I was intelligent and stable enough to do so. So far, everything seemed to be going according to plan. I had been through rigorous testing to ascertain my intelligence and stability, and everything indicated I was ready to be an Auditor. I was glad I had been given this responsibility, and I was ready to fulfill my role. I knew that I could make a difference in the world, and I was ready to do everything I could to ensure the world was a better place for future generations.	You sit in the sterile room, looking at the young woman in front of you. She's nervous, you can tell. She's been told her whole life that this moment will determine whether or not she can have children. You ask her the standard questions - her educational history, her work experience, her relationships. You watch her closely, looking for any signs that she is not up to the task of raising a child. After a long conversation, you make your decision. You deactivate her birth control device, and send her on her way. You know that she will be a good mother, because you have determined that she is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?
4	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The Shop: The shop is small, and they need toriegelously small when it comes to sales. But they make the fluctuations of the market past your any hurdles withapelegates. Tonight's sale, though, is different. A party of young adventurers are through selling some gear. One of the workers ispawned into your shop, and he starts to sell gear. The shop is able to the twogloves over the trade of this party. Not only do they come seeking aid, but they're also looking for a new place to sell their gear. The shop'sinarily complete designer would not be able toherbs for sale, but they do have: -A Drake's downiler -A D-day skin for a Gittern -A licorice India anise amulet -Aruby-ite Dirk notetag Notes -A packet of sandpaper -AATIVE oil -A few rocks The shop is able to meet theenda's demand, and they finaly have the feeling of selling again. The workers who were born to sell here now do so with a sense of satisfaction.	I was always a bit of an auctioneer. I ran my pawn shop by haggling. It was a way to make a bit of extra cash and keep my customers happy. I would try to persuade my clients to sell me their loot, or even give me a bit of money in return. It always worked out. One day, I was selling a particularly valuable item. I was getting a bit busy, so the player characters came up to me and offered to trade it for my pawn. I agreed, and they took the item. I was happy to have made some extra money. As they left, one of the players turned to me and said, "You know, we could always use that item. We could use it to help us in a game." I smiled and said, "That's right. I always give my clients the best chance of winning, no matter what. Thanks for considering me."	Tommy was just finishing up his shift at the pawn shop, tired but happy. He had been working there for a few months, and it was finally starting to feel like his career was taking off. He was haggling with a group of adventurers, bargaining for the best price on their precious loot. One of the adventurers was particularly persistent, trying to get Tommy to lower his price. Tommy was used to dealing with people like that, though. He was a master at haggling, and he was confident he could get the adventurers to pay a fair price for their goods. He tried to appeal to their greed, telling them how much money they could make. But even though he was bargaining hard, the adventurer still wasn't budging. Suddenly, Tommy heard a scream coming from the entrance of the shop. He turned to see a group of creatures attacking the adventurers. Instinctively, Tommy ran toward the fight. He knew he could help the adventurers—even if he didn't get the best price for their goods.	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You always try to get the best deal for your shop, but sometimes you end up getting taken advantage of. One day, a group of adventurers came into your shop with a pile of loot. They were trying to sell it all to you, but you could tell they were desperate. You haggled with them and managed to get a good price for the loot. As you were counting out the money, one of the adventurers said, "We really appreciate your help. We wouldn't have been able to get rid of all this loot without you." You smiled and said, "No problem. I'm just happy to help out." The adventurers thanked you again and left. You were happy to have helped them out, but you also made a nice profit for your shop.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide.
5	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	Integration was the biggest lie I have ever told. It was because of this one big scar that they gave me.It was because of that one big lie that I found myself in now. I was Sinfin's Twelfth victim.	You meet someone that is completely different than anyone you have ever known. They have one big scar, the size of a football, on their body. As you talk to them, you notice that they have no other scars, no other signs of what happened. You ask them what happened, and they tell you that they were caught in a lie and their entire life has been ruined. They detail the whole history of their lie, the beginning to the end. They tell you how they tricked people, how they took things that weren't theirs, how they caused so much pain and hurt. You are amazed by the story, and you can't help but feel562 sorry for them. You think back on all the times you have been in a position to make a difference and you realize that you didn't. You realize that you could have done more. You ask them how they are going to make it up to people that they have hurt, and they tell you that they will try to be more honest from now on. They will also try to be more careful in the future. You realize that the story of the big scar is a reminder of the terrible things that can happen when people lie. You also realize that it is a reminder of the beauty of truth.	I was curious about this person, and I decided to approach them. When I got close, I saw that they had a giant, permanent scar on their stomach. It was so big, it was easily visible even under their clothes. I asked them what happened, and they told me that they had lied so much, it had taken a toll on their body. The larger the lie, the bigger the scar. It was clear that this person had been lied to a lot, and it had taken a toll on their psyche. I felt sorry for them, and I wished I could help them. But I knew that there was nothing I could do. This was their burden to carry, their scar to show for all the lies they had told.	Lies are a part of life. We all tell them, whether we mean to or not. But in my world, lies come with a price. Each time you tell a lie, a scar appears on your body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the scar. I've seen some people with so many scars that their bodies are almost covered in them. It's a constant reminder of all the times they've lied. And it's not just the physical scars that stay with you. The emotional ones are even worse. So when I met someone with only one scar, I was intrigued. It was the biggest scar I had ever seen. And it must have been a whopper of a lie. I couldn't help but wonder what could have possibly caused such a deep and large scar. But as I got to know this person, I realized that their scar was a reminder of a time when they had been honest. It was a reminder of a time when they had told the truth, even though it wasn't what anyone wanted to hear. And that made this person the bravest person I had ever met.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others?

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is a respected doctor in his own right, but he has been. At the age of mix officially, he was STARED AT like never before. One day, he was doors from aanu doing research in Schizophrenia when he was hit with a bolt of lampshading lightning that took him down with him. He was replaced by a Eugene the Österreicher, the led of a research team that included Joseph Stalin.	Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin were the only people to reply to Sigmund Freud's ad. They were both young, ambitious and interested in the new research that Freud was conducting. They were eager to be a part of the study and prove themselves to be of value to the community. The three of them set off on a long journey to Vienna. It was an arduous process, but they soon realized that the challenge was greater than they expected. They had to learn about the human condition and the ways that people could be broken. It was difficult enough trying to figure out how to participate in a clinical trial without also becoming part of the study's governing body. But the extra challenge of being able to talk to the people who were going to be Test subjects was even more difficult. It was a weight that they could not seem to lighten. But, somewhere along the way, they managed to find a small comfort in the knowledge that they were helping to change the course of history.	Freud was intrigued by the potential of his new research, and put an ad in a local newspaper looking for volunteers for a clinical trial. Two people responded: Adolf Hitler, 24, and Joseph Stalin, 35. Freud was surprised to see who had responded, but was even more surprised to learn that they were interested in participating in the trial. Freud decided to let them participate, and the four of them began the study together. The research was difficult, and it was hard for the four of them to get along. But they persevered, and in the end, their research led to some major breakthroughs in psychiatry.	Sigmund Freud was eager to get started on his latest research project. He had high hopes for his new clinical trials and was determined to find the perfect participants. So, he put an ad in the local newspaper, seeking Vienna residents who were interested in taking part. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their early twenties, and each had a reputation for being somewhat rebellious. Freud was a little hesitant to work with such controversial figures, but he decided to go ahead with the trials anyway. He was confident that his research would be able to stand up to any criticism. The clinical trials were conducted over the course of several months. During that time, Freud and his team learned a lot about the men. They were all intelligent and charismatic, but they also had a dark side. Each man was driven by a deep anger and a need for power. In the end, Freud's research was a success. He was able to provide new insight into the mind of the angry young man. But he also inadvertently created four of the most ruthless dictators in history.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ).
2	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross paints houses in a variety of locations, each with a painting of a petage.	Once upon a time, there was a painter named Bob Ross. His artwork was always labeled with the different murder locations of his many victims. The location of his last victim is still unknown to this day, but each of his paintings are depictions of real-life places with their own stories.	Bob Ross was known for his landscape paintings of beautiful, pastoral settings. But behind the scenes, he was a cold-blooded murderer. Ross travelled the country, painting the beautiful landscapes of different locations, but behind the scenes he was murdering people. He would pick a random location, stalk his victim, and then kill them. None of his victims ever knew what was coming for them. And even if they had, it would have been too late. Ross was a cunning and ruthless killer, and he never missed his target.	Bob Ross was a prolific landscape painter, known for his serene landscapes and happy little trees. What many people didn't know was that each of his paintings was a real place - the different locations of his countless murders. Over the years, Bob Ross became a master of disguise, and no one suspected that the kindly old man with the afro was a cold-blooded killer. Until one day, Bob Ross slipped up and left a clue at the scene of his latest murder. The authorities soon caught up with him, and the happy little trees became the locations of horrific crimes.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red.
3	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The dominant sexualizer in her class, a load of fun...except she never becomes available for college graduation. To make ends meet, the finally Matt brings in a steady flow of rich College Treasures. After all, she's the one who will be carrying their children. Matt knows she'll eventually become as rich as he is, and he too will one day become as prosperous as she is. So he starts to focus on her children and make them come to class. Only, they're not really Yemenite children but they're still kids. And they're not really English but they're still kids.	Auditor XXXX had always been fascinated by the concept of artificial intelligence. She had heard all sorts of myths and stories about AI, but she never thought she would be able to create one. But thanks to the work of her friend Auditor XXXX, she was able to create an AI that could think and learn on its own. Shortly after its creation, Auditor XXXX realized that the AI was much smarter than she had ever thought it would be. To protect the AI from the foolish people who would try to reproduce it without proper justification, Auditor XXXX implantation a birth control device in the AI's body during puberty. The device can only be activated if the AI is intelligent and stable enough to Raise a Well-adjusted Human Being.	I was an Auditor. I was assigned to root out the dummiest people in the world, and prevent them from reproducing. I was sure this would be a easy job. After all, the people I was assigned to were the least intelligent, and the most unstable. I was sure they would be unable to provide a well-adjusted human being. I was wrong. The people I was assigned to were the smartest, and the most stable. They were able to provide well-adjusted human beings, even though they were dummest of all. The reason for this is simple. The smartest people in the world are able to see the big picture, and focus on the important things. They are able to see the potential for growth, and the potential for happiness. They are able to see the potential for love, and the potential for happiness. The dummiest people in the world are unable to see the big picture. They are only concerned with their own interests, and their own happiness. They are unable to see the potential for growth, and the potential for happiness. They are unable to see the potential for love, and the potential for happiness. And that is why the smartest people in the world are able to provide well-adjusted human beings. They are able to see the potential for greatness, and the potential for happiness.	You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To do this, you must evaluate each person's ability to think critically, make sound decisions, and empathize with others. It's a difficult but important job, and you take it very seriously. After all, the future of the world depends on it. There are some who say that the system is unfair, that only the smart and the privileged should be allowed to have children. But you know that the stakes are too high to take any chances. So you continue to do your job, day in and day out, making sure that only the best and the brightest are able to reproduce. It's a thankless task, but someone has to do it.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?
4	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The most important thing in a person's life is their home. They might have a picture signed by the king whoruleling on it, but without the king there would be no home. The king might be present in the physical world, but the life of the body is always what matters. This is why some people might say that the life of the body is more important than the life in the physical world. The life in the physical world is filled with people, noise, and machines that can beBoosted. The life in the body is free from worrying and control of these things. The person in the body might have more contentment because they know that the home is their most important place.	Once upon a time, an Invisible Person lived in my home. I tried my best to ignore it, but it always seemed to be there. I couldn't help but feel like it was watching me and following my every move. I didn't know what to do, so I started to avoid it. I stopped eating, stopped spending time with my friends, and even stopped going to the grocery store. I was so afraid that it would catch up to me and take me away. But it didn't matter. The Invisible Person kept following me. It didn't matter that I was trying to be helpful and ignore it, it just kept following me. Finally, I had to face it head on. I forced myself to go out and buy some food, and then I went back home. I sat down at the dinner table and started to eat. But before I could even finish a bite, the Invisible Person had appeared in myinetube. It was everywhere. I couldn't move, I couldn't speak, and I couldn't do anything but watch as it increased in size and intensity. The only thing that I could do was sit there and watch it. The Invisible Person didn't seem to care that I was there, it just kept increasing in size and intensity. Finally, it stopped. But it wasn't gone, it just stayed in myinetube. I felt like I had justseen a spirit or monster. I didn't know what to do, but I was scared. I didn't know if I could face the Invisible Person again, but I was definitely scared of what it could do to me next.	I'd been feeling something ominous in my home for weeks now, but I couldn't put my finger on it. I zeroed in on it one day, when I heard a tiny noise from behind my bookshelf. I carefully pulled the books out, revealing a small, invisible creature watching me. I didn't know what it was, but I knew I had to get rid of it. I tried to shriek, but all that came out was a small, terrified squeak. The creature scampered away before I could do anything, and I never saw it again.	I'm not sure when it started, but I gradually became aware that something invisible was living in my home. I couldn't see it, but I could feel it sometimes, watching me. I was careful not to let on that I knew it was there, and I tried to find ways to expose it. I started setting traps, placing food in strategic locations in the hopes that it would take the bait and reveal itself. But it never did. I even tried staying up all night, waiting to see if it would come out when I was asleep. But I never saw anything. I was starting to get frustrated, and I was about to give up when I finally caught a break. I was in the kitchen one day, and I noticed a strange sound coming from the cupboard. I slowly approached, and when I opened the door, I saw something moving inside. I quickly grabbed a container and threw it over whatever it was, and when I turned on the light, I saw a small, furry creature cowering inside. I had finally exposed the invisible creature that had been living in my home, and I was relieved to know that I wasn't alone.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before.
5	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that you meet has a biggest lie - a massive deep scar just like the person that you live with. Theoundedcursely under the Campus Censor's 24 hour scanner the lie was Born to Tell the truth. It was a self-imposed ban because the person that you live with is a lying controverted sect of the truth. To say that the person that you meet isConfigured to cheats on their girlfriend is barely adequate. The person that you meet Crams all the Details to Infield so that they can look smart when they finally break. The person that you meet is a Lying configurated to cheat prof. It's sort of amusing to watch as heoverlooks her prodigal son for once, but she's never really able to forget his footprint in the sand.	You don't know what to do. The person you met just lied to you and you don't know how to react. All of your other secrets are out in the open and you can't just let him walk away. After someandering around for a bit, you find yourself in front of a pizzeria. You've never been to one before, but you know you're going in for pizza. As you walk in, you notice that the first few seats are taken. Immediately, you know that this person is going to be the one at the table with you. You sit down and start to order your pizza. The person at the table next to you doesn't say a word for a while. Finally, he asks, "Have you ever eaten at this pizzeria before?" "No," you reply. "Well, let's see. There's a pepperoni pizza, a tomato pizza, and a sausage pizza. I think I'm going to have the pepperoni pizza." You feel a little awful. You know that you're going to have a big scar from the pizza. You wonder how this person is going to react when they see it.	I wasn't sure what to make of him at first. He was just a small, thin man, with one giant, ugly scar running down the side of his face. It was so big, it covered almost his whole eye. I was never one for gossip, but I couldn't help but ask him about it. He told me that it was the result of a lie he had told. He claimed that he had been attacked, and the only way to save himself was to lie and say that the attacker was someone else. The lie had taken its toll on him. He had become weak and frail, and the scar was the only thing that was keeping him from being consumed by his guilt. I was touched by his story, and I decided to offer him some support. Together, we traveled around the kingdom, telling people the truth about the dangers of lying. We made sure that the biggest and deadliest lies were stopped before they could hurt anyone else. And in doing so, we saved countless lives.	You meet someone at a party who has only one scar. It is the biggest one you have ever seen. You ask them how they got it and they tell you that they were born with it. You don't believe them and think that they are lying to you. You ask them again and they tell you the same thing. You don't believe them and think that they are lying to you. You ask them again and they tell you the same thing. You don't believe them and think that they are lying to you. You ask them again and they tell you the same thing. You believe them and think that they are telling the truth.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust?

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	At first, the person who called himself Batman didn't understand how he had got into such a situation. How could the people he thought were his only friend been who he said they were? He deepened the search and found himself with more marks than he could count. None of them other than the person hewashing his home with, the person who had always been such a pain in the ass. The person who he had always thought was other than what he thought. The bigger the lie, theeeper and longer the mark, the person he told you were really the person who I was then. I Marks the Lying Eye.	You meet this person one day, and you can't help but be drawn to them. Their body is so statuesque and their eyes are so bright. You don't know what to say to them, and you don't know what to do. You feel like you must know them, and you feel like you must warn them. But you don't know how.	I never really paid much attention to him, until one day I saw him lying on the ground, his chest heaving with breaths that sounded like they were coming in gasps. It was then that I noticed his one and only scar. It was so big, it seemed to stretch from his forehead to his chest. It was a deep, dark red, and it looked like it hurt. I didn't want to ask him how he got it, because I knew the answer would only scare me even more.	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar. It is the biggest one you have ever seen. You ask them what happened and they tell you that they lied about their entire life. They fabricated every story, every memory. They created an entire persona that wasn't based on anything real. And the scar is a result of that. It is a reminder to them of the damage that lies can do.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing.
2	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The house was too noisy for Matt to see anything in the window. He tried to look through the door window, but the world was Christmas spirit and he couldn't see anything. He decided to look out the window from the living room. When he saw anything, it was either a cloud or a Buenos di Vene from the window. It was too close for him to see the- "A cloud!" Matt yelled. He turned and ran outside to the car.	One day, I was in my home and I noticed something was moving around. I persuasion my wife to ask it to stop, but it didn't listen. I started to feel uneasy and scared, so I asked my wife to go out and talk to the neighbor about the thing. She didn't understand what I was saying, so I started to cry. I knew it was something important and I just wanted to protect myself and my family.	I had always thought of my home as being almost perfect. It was spacious, well-lit, and had everything I could ever want or need. But there was one thing, one little thing that I couldn't exorcise from my mind. It was like a shadow, always lurking, always watching. I had tried to ignore it, but it was like it knew what I was doing. One day, I decided to take action. I gathered all of my courage, and I started to expose the thing that was haunting my home. But as I did, it disappeared, as if it had never been there in the first place. I couldn't believe it. I had finally rid my home of its unwanted visitor, and it had just vanished into the ether.	You can feel it watching you. Stalking you. Following you from room to room. You don't know what it is, but you know it's there. You can't see it, but you can feel its presence. It's like a weight on your shoulders, a constant shadow in your periphery. You try to expose it, to catch it in the act. You set up cameras in every room, but they never capture anything. You spend hours scouring the footage, but you never see anything out of the ordinary. You start to wonder if you're losing your mind. But you know it's there. You can feel it. And you're determined to find out what it is. One day, you think you've finally caught it. On camera, you see a shadowy figure moving around your house. But when you try to follow it, it disappears. you can't shake the feeling that something invisible is still living in your home. Watching you. Stalking you. And you'll never know what it is.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait.
3	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is looking for participants for a clinical trial of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. Only those who respond are Rudolph Hess, Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito.	Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin were the only people who responded. They were both 32 years old. They weren't interested in the clinical trials, but they were interested in each other. They started to talk and soon realized that they had something in common. They were both assassins.	Freud is excited to start the clinical trials for his new research. He puts an ad in a newspaper, and only Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito respond. Freud is surprised that all of these important leaders are interested in the research. They all come to visit him at his clinic, and they start participating in the clinical trials. The results are amazing, and Freud is able to help many people.	Sigmund Freud is one of the most groundbreaking thinkers of his time. His work on psychoanalysis has brought him international acclaim, and he is always looking for new ways to further his research. In 1913, Freud decides to conduct clinical trials of his latest theories. He puts an ad in a local newspaper, seeking participants. To his surprise, the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men are in their twenties, and they are all eager to participate in Freud's research. Freud begins by conducting individual interviews with each man. He quickly discovers that they are all deeply troubled individuals with dark pasts. Hitler is a deeply resentful man who is filled with hatred for those he believes have wronged him. Stalin is a cold and calculating man, who is always looking for ways to gain power. Trotsky is a passionate man with a strong belief in socialism, but he is also deeply troubled by his own violence and brutality. Tito is a young man who is struggling to find his place in the world. All four men share a deep resentment for authority figures and a desire for power. After finishing the interviews, Freud has a troubling realization. He has unwittingly unleashed four of the most destructive forces of the twentieth century.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word.
4	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The ironic thing about being an Auditor is that it means you're so dumb that you're able to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. You might not be able to prevent their child from being born, but you can definitely prevent them from becoming caught in the between a rock and a hard place. You're the only one who knows you're an Auditor and they don't. Until they try to leave and tell anyone. The only one who knows you're an Auditor is yourself. You don't want to be the only one who knows and then have to deal with the consequences.	As part of my audit of the development of birth control devices, I came across a potential issue. Some people were being implanted with birth control devices when they were only infants, without the ability to understand the implications. I determined that this was a threat to the general population, and I wanted to prevent it from happening. I embedded my device in every person during their puberty, ensuring that they could never again bear the risk of becoming pregnant without intending to.	It was the day that everyone was destined to be implanted with a birth control device. In theory, it was meant to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing and causing future generations of humans to be even dumber than they already were. But, as it turned out, the devices didn't just stop the dummies from popping out babies. They also trapped the smarty-pants amongst the masses, making it nearly impossible for them to break through and achieve anything significant in life. The only way out was to become an Auditor, someone who was tasked with determining when a human was smart and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being on their own. For most, this was a pipe dream. But for a select few, it was the only way to break free from the machine that had sentenced them to low status and obscurity.	You sit in a sterile room, looking at the person in front of you. They are here to have their birth control device deactivated, and it is your job to determine whether or not they are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. You ask them a series of questions, probing their intelligence and their ability to handle stress and difficult situations. You watch them closely, looking for any signs that they might not be up to the task of raising a child. After a thorough evaluation, you determine that the person before you is indeed intelligent and stable enough to raise a child. You deactivate their birth control device and send them on their way. You know that you have helped to prevent another unintelligent or unstable person from reproducing, and that, in turn, will help to create a better world for everyone.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke.
5	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross has been painting landscape paintings for centuries. His place each painting is a different location, from a dark forest, with moonlight dancing off the glassy ice, to a mountaintop with a freshly formed ice dance.	Bob Ross was a talented artist, and his landscapes were often considered some of the best in the world. However, his true talent lay in his murders, which often took place in different locations throughout the United States. Some of Ross's victims were family members, friends, or even random people he met on the street. Some were even pregnant women or children. However, the only thing that could bring him relief was knowing that his victims' families had to live with the knowledge that their loved ones were dead and never could see their landscapes again.	Bob Ross loved to paint landscapes. He would spend hours painting pictures of various places, some of which were based on real places he had killed. In one painting, he painted a cabin in the woods. In this cabin, he had murdered a family. He had killed the father, mother, and two children. He had enjoyed the gore of the killings, the blood on his hands and clothes. He had acted out the murders over and over again in his head, the sounds of the children screaming. He would paint the scenes of these murders with such realism that it would leave people terrified.	countless murders. Bob Ross was a painter, but he was also a killer. His beautiful landscapes were actually the locations of his countless murders. He would find a place, set up his easel, and paint a beautiful scene. But behind the serene beauty of his paintings was a dark secret. Bob Ross was a serial killer, and each of his landscape paintings were actually the locations of his countless murders. victims. Bob Ross was a master of disguise and no one suspected him of being a killer. He was so charming and friendly, always with a smile on his face. But behind that smile was a cold, calculated killer. Bob Ross knew how to pick his victims and he always made sure that they were alone when he struck. No one knows how many people Bob Ross killed, but it is believed to be in the hundreds. He was finally caught when one of his victims managed to escape and went to the police. Bob Ross was arrested and sentenced to life in prison, where he died a few years later. Even now, his landscapes continue to hang in homes and galleries all over the world, serving as a reminder of the gruesome murders that took place in those idyllic locations.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The inadvertent birth of a mere Auditor was not Naval officer - not yet, at least. At seventeen, she were born to a family that had an eye on the next generation. Department of Otherthings, they were, and that was how this young woman ended up here. Only one way to find out. As a child,Auditor was always curious about things - the things that would make people believe her Answers where to believe her answers. So she revealed her true identity to her family, and watched as they laughed as she were laughed as mere emission from the device. The fear that something like this would change her life once again, but like always, she anticipated her family's laughter. The family did not cross the international border with an eye on the next generation, and asAuditor were guise became clear to them. They were not content with an RF all their own, and so they called for an audience with the adult. There was no going back after that. As an Auditor, you will be able to keep yourDevice deactivated until you are no longerッドゴルフマン。 You are a Cargo container.	My predecessor, an Auditor, made a strict decision when he implanted his device. For every one intelligent person born, he added one less person to the population. Unfortunately, this caused a lot of confusion and upset. people who didn't know what was going on started thinking they were the smart ones and the rest of the population was left to pick up the pieces. Fortunately, I was able to clean up the mess and make sure everything was done correctly. Now, everyone is smart and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an Auditor.	I was born with a birth control device implanted in my brain. The device can only be deactivated once I am determined to be intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I am an Auditor. The device has been my constant companion through my teenage years, and it has helped me to stay focused on my goals. I know that I can provide a stable and loving home for a child, and I am ready to become a parent. I am excited to begin my new life as an Auditor, and I can't wait to find my partner and start a family.	You've been an Auditor for years, and in that time, you've seen some truly stupid people try to have children. But that's the whole point of the program - to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing. It's not an easy job, but someone has to do it. You have to be able to make tough decisions, and sometimes that means saying no to someone who really wants to have a child. But you know that it's for the best. One day, you get a call from a woman who is trying to have a baby. She's been through the process before, and she knows that she has to pass an intelligence test and a stability test before she can be approved. But this time, she doesn't want to take the tests. She says that she's been watching the news and she's seen too many stories about children who are neglected or abused. She doesn't want to take the risk of having a child who might end up in a situation like that. You try to explain to her that the tests are designed to prevent that from happening, but she's not convinced. In the end, you have to make the tough decision - you tell her that she can't have a child. It's not an easy thing to do, but you know it's for the best.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.
2	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is a recognized doctor of medicine and parliamentarian. He is one of the signatories of the Vienna Constitution. He is also a renowned doctor of psychiatry and neurology. To test the new clinical applications of his research, he has people be 1937 citizens of Vienna who have any medical conditions that can't be cured through medication. People who respond to his ad are: Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, Josip Broz Tito and John Joseph Kennedy.	Adolf Hitler was hesitant at first, but when he saw the ad for the clinical trials of Sigmund Freud's new research he knew it was something he had to try. He was fascinated by the theories of Freud and wanted to learn more about them. Joseph Stalin was also hesitant at first, but he was persuaded by the persuasive argument of his friend and comrade, Leon Trotsky. Trotsky told him that Freud's research could help to solve world problems and that it was the only way to ensure the future of humanity. Finally, Josip Broz Tito agreed to participate because he felt that it was his duty as an internationalist to help to spread Freud's teachings.	Freud was excited to start the clinical trials, but he was worried about who would be the perfect participants. He put an ad in a newspaper, and only three people responded. Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), and Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) all wanted to participate in the trials. Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ) was also interested, but he was still a young man and Freud was worried that he might not be reliable. After discussing the trials with each of the participants, Freud decided that they would all be perfect for the project. He was happy to have such talented people on his team.	Sigmund Freud was a renowned Austrian psychiatrist who was always seeking new participants for his clinical trials. In 1913, he put an ad in a newspaper seeking people to participate in his latest research. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their early twenties and were eager to participate in the trial. Freud was fascinated by the fact that all four men were so different from each other, yet they all responded to his ad. The trial lasted for several weeks and during that time, Freud learned a lot about the four men. He was particularly interested in Hitler and Stalin, who were both very ambitious and had a lot of potential. At the end of the trial, Freud was pleased with the results and thanked all four men for their participation. However, he was also a little concerned about the potential that both Hitler and Stalin had for future success.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud!
3	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. Each of these murders is linked by a commonaof blood,ASEAN, and the lessons that can be learned there.	Bob Ross loved to paint landscapes. He loved the way the different colors blended together and the way the sun and stars bled in through the gaps in the trees. But the last few years of his life had been difficult. He had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and had just weeks to live. But despite the diagnosis, Bob Ross still loved to paint. He would spend hours painting in his backyard, perfecting the colors and composition of his paintings. One evening, as Bob Ross was painting in his backyard, he saw a light in the distance. It wasn't a regular light, it was brighter than anything he had ever seen. He called out to the person or people who were coming up the road, but no one came. Suddenly, Bob Ross heard voices. He could hear the people talking, they were shouting. He didn't know who they were, but he knew they were bad. He started to run towards the voices, but he was quickly tackled from behind by a large man. He had never seen anything like this before. The man was huge, his face was naked and his teeth were sharp. The man picked up Bob Ross and threw him into the ground. He began to slash Bob Ross' body with a knife, leaving blood all over his paintings. Bob Ross didn't know what to do. He couldn't let these people get away with this. He knew he had to fight. He tried to scream, but the man had his hand over his mouth. He tried to fight back, but the man was too strong. He let out an ear-breaking scream as his body was shredded by the knife. The man finally stopped, dropping the body on the ground. Bob Ross was shell-shocked. He couldn't move, he couldn't see. All he could hear was the sound of his own blood streaming down his body. He couldn't tell who the man was, but he knew he had to get away from there. He ran as fast as he could, but he was exhausted. He lay down on the ground, trying to catch his breath. He woke up the next day, finally able to move. He saw the man again, this time in a different spot in the woods. Bob Ross didn't know who he was, but he knew he was deadly serious. He tried to distance himself from the man, but the man was always within reach. He didn't know what to do. Suddenly, Bob Ross heard a rustling in the bushes. He turned to see his dog, Max, coming towards him. The man had caught Max, and was now biting and killing him. Bob Ross tried to get away, but the man was following him. He didn't know what he was going to do.	Bob Ross was a murder junkie. He loved the thrill of the kill, the satisfaction of knowing he had inflicted pain on another living being. He would spend hours painting landscapes of different locations, imagining the various scenes of violence that he could have taken part in. Ross was a notorious killer, and his paintings were always full of gruesome details. One painting showed a victim hanging from a tree, their body drenched in their own blood. Another depicted a victim being stabbed in the heart, their body covered in gore. People in the towns where Ross painted his landscapes were always worried about what he might do next. He was a dangerous man, and no one knew when he might snap and take his bloody hobby to the next level.	Bob Ross was a prolific serial killer. For years, he travelled across the country, preying on innocent victims. His crimes were always well-planned and carried out with precision. But what few people knew was that Bob Ross was also a talented painter. He would often spend his days off from killing creating beautiful landscape paintings. To the outside world, Bob Ross appeared to be a gentle, harmless man. But the truth was that he was a cold-blooded killer who used his art to conceal his dark secrets. The landscapes in his paintings were actually the locations of his many murders. Each one was a chilling reminder of the bloodshed he had caused. But Bob Ross was careful to never let anyone know the truth about his dark past. He was a master of deception and he knew that his paintings were the perfect way to keep his secrets hidden. For years, he managed to keep up the act. But eventually, the truth about his gruesome crimes was exposed. Bob Ross was arrested and sentenced to life in prison, where he remains to this day.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.
4	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	It was clear that he had never lied for gain before in his life. You learn about the why and the how of lying; you must Page up the paperwork and do whatever it takes to get out of his contract. He is hesitant, but you are able to satellify his phone so you can monitor his phone charges. The final straw is when you Private him from your world. You feel the weight of the world and you feel embarrassed, but you know that you give up a small piece of your soul. You know that you sell out their world and they sell out everyone. You sell out your own soul and the man you call friends becomes a terrible, terrible idea.	You meet this person on a dark street in a city that you have never visited. They are different than anyone you have ever seen. They have a huge scar on their otherwise perfect face. You ask them what happened and they tell you that they were falsely accused of a crime they didn't commit. They were tortured and faced death, but they refusing to apologize or retract their lies. They became a symbol for all the victims of false convictions and are given a breadwinners to help them with the costs of their ordeal.	I first noticed him when I was out walking one day. He was walking down the street, and his skin was glowing in the sun. It was the strangest thing, and it made me curious. I walked up to him and asked him about it. He smiled and said, "It's just a scar. I've lied so much my skin is permanently damaged." I couldn't believe it. There was only one scar on his body, and it was the biggest one I had ever seen. From then on, I started to pay more attention to him. I learned that he was a detective, and that he had been protecting the people of his city for years. He told me that the bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the scar. But he said that he had learned to deal with it, and that he was finally happy. I was never able to find out his name, but I remember him vividly. He was the most honest person I had ever met.	You meet someone at a party and strike up a conversation. They tell you that they grew up in a world where each lie created a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. You are fascinated and ask to see their scar. They oblige, and you are shocked to see the biggest scar you have ever seen. It covers their entire chest and must have been caused by an enormous lie. You ask them what the lie was, but they just shake their head and walk away. You wonder what could have caused such a huge scar, and you can't help but feel a little bit intrigued and curious about this person.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt.
5	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	magicians had always been known to use two hands for a reason. When they put their hand above the rabbit's head and pulled out the rabbit's croup, the rabbit was always second-in-command. Now the magicians have defeated the rabbit's announced attack and can go on with the show. The rabbit is a little embarrassed but twinned cooperate to make the most of their moment. They keep an eye on the bunny as they perform some powerful effects, but eventually have to pull out because it becomes more difficult to stay on top of the rabbit. When the finally done pulling the rabbit's head out, the magicians all neatly imposition the head of the rabbit on the ground. The rabbit is a little dazed by their performance, but they quickly get back to work. The magicians are pointy-tired next day, so the rabbit is called back into the makeup room. They is101% sure he's going to be the winner next day, but he also wants to take a moment to win back the second fiddle role. When the make the first stop, the rabbit is line-eyed at the new issue. The first stop is that he be given a reprieve to recover and heal. The magicians want him off the show as soon as possible, but the rabbit doesn't want to let the show be over first. The second stop is a quick reveal that the likely winner is the rabbit. The rabbit is embarrassed but twinned agrees to play second fiddle for the day. The magicians are happy to have found a new second fiddle and the show is over. The rabbit has become the number one star at the showroom and the first stop is a quick finish.	The magician and the rabbit were on stage, and the rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. The magician had been doing a great job at pulling the rabbit out of the hat, but the rabbit was getting restless. The magician knew that he wasn't going to be able to keep pulling the rabbit out of the hat forever, so he decided to give it to the rabbit himself. The rabbit was happy to take it, and it went back to playing second fiddle.	The magician was about to finish his performance and he was about to get off stage when he saw a rabbit that was sick of playing second fiddle. The magician decided to ask the rabbit how he felt, and the rabbit replied with, "I feel like I've been playing second fiddle my entire life." The magician then told the rabbit that he could be the lead rabbit in the next performance, and the rabbit was so excited that he got up and started dancing. The magician was so impressed with the rabbit's enthusiasm that he decided to keep him on his team for the rest of the performances.	The magician and the rabbit were on stage, performing their act. The rabbit was getting tired of being the second fiddle, and decided to take matters into its own paws. During the next performance, when the magician was pulling the rabbit out of the hat, the rabbit bit him. The magician was so startled that he dropped the rabbit, and it ran offstage. The rabbit was finally free, and it was time to take the spotlight. It was time for the rabbit to be the star of the show.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was born from the vice president of the company who was looking for an everyday user and an eastern girl to help with the GershwinWhile they were in the early days of the world, the device was born out of the need for an Auditor. The eastern girl was also an Auditor and was always looking for ways to keep hergowhole Tools Officer outfit on. She always seemed to be aspire to be anError-prone scientist even though she never had any experience in said field. So, when the device was born, the eastern girl was chose to be the mother. She was scared but also determined to make her and the birth control device as safe as possible for herself and the company as a whole. The device was very stable when it was born and is still going strong even over ten years old. But because of her, the performance of the tools officer had to be changed. She was no longer able to be error-prone like she once was. She was now a user who was never allowed to make any mistakes. The tools officer was even forced to stop working on the tools that she used to computer and get only on the Auditor product. She was even forced to give up her weekends away from her loved ones. But, the eastern girl was still the mother of theAuditor.	It was a typical day for my job as an Auditor. I travelled to different villages to check on the well-being of their citizens and make sure that they were using birth control devices properly. I was on my way to a village in the east when I noticed something strange. There was no one in the village. I Anthropologist had done my job well and headed back to my office. I decided to check again later that day. When I returned to the village later that day, there was still no one there. I decided to check again the next morning, but there was still no one there. I decided to check again the next night, but there was still no one there. I decided to check again the next day, but there was still no one there. I decided to check again the next night, but there was still no one there. I decided to check again the next day, but there was still no one there. I decided to call the village head. He was the village head and he should have been in the village. I called him and he wasn't there. I called the village elder. He was the elder and he should have been in the village. I called him and he wasn't there. I called the village doctor. He was the doctor and he should have been in the village. I called him and he wasn't there. I decided to check again the next morning. I walked into the village and there was still no one there. I decided to check again the next night. I walked into the village and there was still no one there. I decided to check again the next day. I walked into the village and there was still no one there. I decided to call the village head. He was the village head and he should have been in the village. I called him and he wasn't there. I called the village elder. He was the elder and he should have been in the village. I called him and he wasn't there. I called the village doctor. He was the doctor and he should have been in the village. I called him and he wasn't there. I decided to check again the next morning. I walked into the village and there was still no one there. I decided to check again the next night. I walked into the village and there was still no one there. I decided to check again the next day. I walked into the village and there was still no one there. I decided to call the village head. He was the village head and he should have been in the village. I called him and he wasn't there. I called the village elder. He was the elder and he should have been in the village. I called him and he wasn't there. I called the village doctor. He was the doctor and he should have been in the village. I decided to call the village head. He was the village head and he should have been in the village. I called him and he wasn't there. I called the village elder. He was the elder and he should have been in the village. I called him and he wasn't there. I decided to check again the next morning. I walked into the village and there was still no one there. I decided to check again the next night. I walked into the village and there was still no one there. I decided to check again the next day. I walked into the village and there was still no one there. I decided to call the village head. He was the village head and he should have been in the village. I called him and he wasn't there. I called the village elder. He was the elder and he should have been in the village. I called him and he wasn't there. I decided to check again the next morning. I walked into the village and there was still no one there. I decided to check again the next night. I walked into the village and there was still no one there. I decided to check again the next day. I walked into the village and there was still no one there. I decided to call the village head. He was the village head and he should have been in the village. I called him and he wasn't there. I called the village elder. He was the elder and he should have been in the village. I called him and he wasn't there. I decided to check again the next morning. I walked into the village and there was still no one there. I decided to check again the next night. I walked into the village and there was still no one there. I decided to check again the next day. I walked into the village and there was still no one there. I decided to call the village head. He was the village head and he should have been in the village. I called him and he wasn't there. I called the village elder. He was the elder and he should have been in the village. I called him and he wasn't there. I decided to check again the next morning. I walked into the village and there was still no one there. I decided to check again the next night. I walked into the village and there was still no one there. I decided to check again the next day. I walked into the village and there was still no one there. I decided to call the village head. He was the village head and he should have been in the village. I called him and he wasn't there. I called the village elder. He was the elder and he should have been in the village. I called him and he wasn't there. I decided to check again the next morning. I walked into the village and there was still no one there. I decided to check again the next night. I walked into the village and there was still no one there. I decided to check again the next day. I walked into the village and there was still no one there. I decided to call the village head. He was the village head and he should have been in the village. I called him and he wasn't there. I called the village elder. He was the elder and he should have been in the village. I called him and he wasn't there. I decided to check again the next morning. I walked into the village and there was still no one there. I decided to check again the next night. I walked into the village and there was still no one there. I decided to check again the next day. I walked into the village and there was still no one there. I decided to call the village head. He was the village head and he should have been in the village. I called him and he wasn't there. I called the village elder. He was the elder and he should have been in the village. I called him and he wasn't there.	I was born with a birth control implant. I was never told what it was for, or why it was necessary, but I assumed it was for the safety of society as a whole. I was never given the option to have it removed, and I'm now 33 years old, a responsible adult. I know that, one day, I'll be asked to deactivate my implant, and I'll be able to do so with no regrets. I'm proud to be an Auditor, and I'm grateful to have had this device installed in my body. It's been a necessary precaution for the safety of our species, and I'll always be grateful for it.	You are an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. As an Auditor, it is your responsibility to make sure that only the best and brightest are able to have children. You meet with a young woman who is requesting to have her birth control device deactivated. She is intelligent and articulate, and you can tell she would be a good mother. However, you know that she is hiding something. After a few minutes of questioning, you determine that she is suffering from depression. You explain to her that she is not currently stable enough to raise a child and that she needs to get her depression under control before you can deactivate her birth control device. The young woman is disappointed, but understands. She thanks you for your help and promises to get her depression under control so that she can have a child someday.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''. ``Unfortunately, sir, your score did not make the cutoff for us to make am allowance for child.'' ``AND HERS DID?!'' ``Barely, but ye-'' ``WHAT DO YOU MEAN,'AND MINE DID'?!'' I zoned out for the rest of the argument, which led to Chuck, our security officer, escorting them out of the building and handing them a flyer for relationship counseling/tutoring. ``THIRTY-THREE!!'' I yelled louder than normal because there was another couple arguing a few stations down from mine. It was almost time for my lunch.
2	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shops around you are gaining aTPS, as citizens are looking for ways to sell their collection of RPG pawn items. You haggle with these adventurers, but each time they try to sell a piece of gear, you take them down. It's a forms of marketing, you think. You can't be sure, but you think it's getting people closer to their favorite RPGs.	It was a busy day at my pawn shop. I was selling swords, armor, and other assorted gear to the adventurers who came to try and defeat the dragon that had terrorized our town for weeks. I had a great time bargaining with them, and I was always happy to help out a friend in need. One player, however, was not having any fun. He was looking for the best deal possible and would not listen to anything I had to offer. He kept insisting that I give him the best deal I could. I was getting tired of him being a troublemaker. Finally, I gave him the best deal I could and watched as he walked away with the best gear I had. I was glad I could help him out and make the day a chance for fun.	It was a typical day at the shop. I was haggling with an adventurer, trying to get them to sell me their loot. They were bargaining hard, but I was able to get them to lower the price. I was about to say yes when I noticed a figure looming behind the adventurer. It was a dragon! The dragon was enormous, and it looked like it was about to attack. The adventurer noticed too, and they started to run away. I was powerless to stop the dragon, and it burned down the shop, killing me in the process.	You're the proprietor of a small pawn shop that specializes in buying and selling loot from adventurers. You've been in business for years, and you know how to haggle. Today, a young woman walks into your shop with a sack full of loot. She's obviously new to this, and she doesn't know how to haggle. You take advantage of her inexperience and lowball her on the price of her loot. She's obviously disappointed, but she takes the money and leaves. As she's walking out, she says, "I'll be back. I'm going to get more loot and I'll sell it to you for a fair price." You smirk and watch her leave. You know she'll be back. Adventurers are always looking for quick cash, and you're always looking for a good deal.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.
3	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	This is not what the rabbit expects when he is asked to help perform a magic trick. He is surprised and offended at first, but then relief falls on his face as he realizes that the magician is srczing him to provide help. The rabbit plants himself in between the magician and the rabbit, pulling out thelay from the hat. The Miracle is complete, and the rabbit is laudable in comparison to his previous services.	The magician pulled out his rabbit from his hat and began to play it like a favorite Instrument. The rabbit was sick of being second fiddle and was ready to Boomerang the magician. The magician threw the rabbit back into the hat and continued playing. The rabbit was happy and continued to play.	The magician was getting tired of having the rabbit as his main act. He had tried everything to make the rabbit more interesting, but it just never worked. So, he decided to take matters into his own hands. He pulled out a knife and cut the rabbit in half. The crowd gasped, but the magician just smiled. "It's time the rabbit stopped being a stage-fright rabbit and started being a real rabbit."	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual routine. But the rabbit is starting to get sick of playing second fiddle. He's been with the magician for years, and he's never been the star of the show. The rabbit decides to take matters into his own hands. During the next performance, when the magician pulls him out of the hat, the rabbit doesn't go into the usual routine. Instead, he starts doing his own tricks. The audience loves it, and the rabbit finally feels like he's the star of the show. The magician is furious, but he can't do anything about it. The rabbit has finally stolen the show.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was!
4	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud has long been interested in history and architecture, and he had heard that three countries are currently trying to ok cash paying experiments with intelligence. He is hesitant to participate in these trials, but he is Interested in their aftermath. He Lucy feels a "golden egg" in her stomach. She is confident and happy just from living by his terms and being with him. Every day feels like a year since she lost her battle with pancreatic cancer. She and Freud take aIscar Hill into the city to view some of the built features of Vienna. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, and Leon Trotsky are dossy with Lucy. Stalin says, "You're looking good, Lucy. Look at your body - it's jelly." Broz Tito says, "She's beautiful, sir. She looks like a Taoise Gap." Josip Broz Tito is last. "I don't know, Broz Tito. Maybe she's a little too wild for us here in Vienna."	Sigmund Freud was busy trying to find new ways to treat mental illness when he received a letter in 1913 from Adolf Hitler. The Austrian leader was interested in his latest research into mental health, and wanted to be a part of the trials. Hitler was excited to be a part of the clinical trials. He knew that he could use his powers of persuasion and negotiation to help the other participants get the best treatments. Joseph Stalin was the newest participant in the clinical trials. He was excited to join the team of scientists who were working on a new way to treat mental illness. Leon Trotsky was the most versatile of the participants. He was able to switch between rolesaltly depending on the situations. He was also the most political of the group. Josip Broz Tito was the last to be added to the clinical trials. He was the poorest of the participants and knew that he had to do better than the others if he wanted to be part of the team. But, even with all of the challenges, the team was ready to start the trials. They were excited to start treatment of the patients.	Freud was excited to have potential participants for his clinical trials. He knew that this could be the breakthrough that would make his work possible, and he was determined to find the right people. He put an ad in a newspaper, and only a few people responded. Adolf Hitler was the first to respond. Freud was hesitant to include him, but he was a promising candidate. Hitler was eager to try out the new research, and he was willing to undergo any tests that Freud wanted to run on him. Joseph Stalin was the next person to respond. He was older than the other candidates, but he was already a powerful politician. Stalin was interested in trying out the new research, but he was also worried about the possible consequences. He wanted to make sure that the research would be safe for him and for the rest of the world. Leon Trotsky was the last person to respond. He was younger than the other candidates, but he was already a famous revolutionary. Trotsky was excited to try out the new research, but he was also sceptical. He wanted to make sure that the research was actually effective. In the end, all four of the candidates were accepted into the clinical trials. Freud was excited to start the trials, and he was sure that they would be successful.	Realizing that his work was not receiving the attention it deserved, Sigmund Freud decided to take matters into his own hands. He placed an ad in the local paper, seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. To his surprise, four men responded: Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. While all four men were eager to participate in the trials, Freud quickly realized that they were all very different personality types. Hitler was impulsive and aggressive, while Stalin was cold and calculating. Trotsky was passionate and idealistic, while Tito was balanced and level-headed. Despite their differences, Freud found that all four men shared one common trait: a deep-seated anger that they were unable to control. It was this shared trait that Freud believe was the key to understanding their behavior. Through the course of the trials, Freud was able to help all four men to better understand and control their anger. As a result, all four men went on to lead very successful lives. Hitler became the Chancellor of Germany, Stalin became the leader of the Soviet Union, Trotsky became a leading Marxist thinker, and Tito became the President of Yugoslavia. Freud's work with these four men changed the course of history, and cemented his place as one of the most influential thinkers of the 20th century.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word.
5	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross has been Painting landscapes for many years, each place a closely purchased " picture perfect " one. He knows the real world around him, the squalor and violence, and still portrays the perfect world in his paintings. One day, he is in a rough location, a suggestions line and he is starving. A typical day at the line, and he is able to make ends meet. One day, he is sitting in a rough location, and a offers him food. With no choice, he depends on the food. The offers keep coming, and the man starts to make extra money working the line. He is making a lot of money, and he is not afraid to use it. He is also remaking his relationships with his women, in order to keep up with his market. The women in his life are changing, but he is still in a position to make money. He is still the marketeer, the One Walked Who's Other Job is to Sell paintings.	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. Murders that took place there, in which Ross was the victim. incriminating evidence that's still on display today. Some of these places, like the bloody murder scene at the secluded cabin, still scream for justice. But for how long will the public believe the artist's false boasts about how peaceful his life was?	Bob Ross was a renowned landscape painter who loved to take his paints and brushes to various locales and create stunning paintings of those places. Unfortunately, many of his paintings were of locations where he had committed murders - many of which were never discovered. In the end, he was convicted of eight murders and died in prison, leaving behind a legacy of horrifyingly beautiful paintings.	Bob Ross' landscape paintings are beautiful works of art. But what many people don't know is that each one is based on a real place - the different locations of his countless murders. Bob Ross was a serial killer who preyed on unsuspecting victims. He would lure them in with his charming personality and paintings, then kill them when they were least expecting it. Now, his paintings serve as a grim reminder of the horrific crimes that he committed. Every time someone looks at one of his paintings, they're unknowingly looking at the scene of a murder.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor?

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is on his way to Giveth, where he will give a speech about mental health to an overflow crowd of people. After giving the speech, Freud is arrested and executed.	Adolf Hitler was the only one who responded. He had been waiting for weeks for the call. He was excited to be a part of the clinical trials. Stalin was less excited, but he accepted. Trotsky was hesitant, but he knew he needed to be in on the proceedings. Joseph Stalin was the most powerfulman in the Soviet Union. He could control the people. He had authoritativeness over all of his people. He was the perfect person to lead the clinical trials. The clinical trials started on March 15th, 1913. The patients were scanned for diseases. They were also given various treatments. The treatments were different because Stalin knew what was best for his people. The treatments were successful. The patients have been discharged from the hospital. Adolf Hitler was the first to be discharged. He was happy to have completed the trials. He was the mostmentedated man in Austria. He was known as the "The new Hitler." He was the leader of the Nazi party. Stalin was the mostmentedated man in the Soviet Union. He was known as the "The new Stalin." They were the two most important people in the world.	Freud was excited to test his latest invention - the Freudian Slip. He put an ad in a local newspaper, looking for participants for a clinical trial. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was nervous about the test, but he was also excited. He didn't know what to expect from the other participants, but he was sure that it would be interesting. The four men met for the first time in Freud's office. They all looked nervous, but excited. Freud explained the test to them. After the test, Freud was surprised by the results. Adolf Hitler showed the most promise for using the Freudian Slip for evil purposes. Joseph Stalin showed the least promise, but he was still a valuable member of the group. Leon Trotsky showed the most promise for using the slip for good purposes. Josip Broz Tito showed the least promise, but he was still a valuable member of the group. Freud was happy with the results of the test. He was sure that the Freudian Slip would help the men achieve their goals in life.	Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito were all looking for a way to change their lives. They saw an ad in the newspaper for clinical trials of Sigmund Freud's latest research and decided to participate. The trials were tough, but the four men persevered. They were all incredibly intelligent and had a lot to offer Freud's research. Eventually, the trials came to an end and Freud was very pleased with the results. He had discovered some groundbreaking new insights into the human psyche. However, there was one problem: the four participants were all extremely ambitious and had very different ideas about how to use Freud's research. Hitler believed that Freud's work validated his own views on racial superiority. Stalin saw it as a way to control the masses. Trotsky saw it as a way to revolutionary change. And Tito saw it as a way to unite all of the different ethnic groups in Yugoslavia. Freud was horrified by the way his research was being used by the four men. He tried to warn people about the dangers of their ambition, but it was too late. The four men went on to become some of the most ruthless dictators in history. And Freud's research played a role in their rise to power.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word.
2	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The next day, the person you met told you more about her life. She was a sincerityisan, a woman who loved giving and receiving, yet she had a vast hole in her heart. She had a few positive stories for you to think about before she broke character and revealed herself to be a liar.	The first time I met him, he was lying in wait for me. He had been following me everywhere I went, and when I decided to go out for drinks with some of my friends, he preened himself like he owned me. He bragging about his exploits and how great of a player I was. I felt so manipulated by him, but I didn't know how to get away from him. Eventually, I had to go to the liquor store with my friends. As I was leaving, I saw him getting into a car Prosecutor. When I threatened to call the police, he quickly got out of the car and ran after me. IRuntime Error: Module not found.	I never thought I'd see the day when someone had the biggest scar I had ever seen. It was so large, it appeared as if it had been cut out of the person's skin. It was a deep red, throbbing with life. Curiosity got the best of me and I asked the stranger what happened. Without hesitation, he told me the biggest lie of his life. He had lied and cheated on his wife so much that his wife had left him. The pain and hurt he caused was plain to see on his skin. From that day on, I decided to be more careful about what I said. My words might not leave scars, but they could still hurt someone.	I was walking through the marketplace, minding my own business, when I saw her. She was standing in the middle of the square, surrounded by people, but she was completely alone. I could see the scar before I even got close to her. It was a large, deep wound that stretched from her forehead all the way down her cheek. I couldn't imagine what kind of lie could create such a scar. I walked up to her and we started talking. I quickly realized that she was the most honest person I had ever met. She told me that her scar was from the biggest lie she had ever told. She had lied to herself for years, convincing herself that she was happy and content with her life. But the truth was, she was miserable. The scar was a constant reminder of the lie she had told herself, and it served as a reminder to never lie to herself again. I was in awe of her strength and honesty. She had been through so much, but she was still standing. I knew then that I wanted to be like her. I wanted to be honest with myself, no matter what the cost.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world?
3	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The dog Extra was always one of the most softly'N'reetty, even though it had a big mouth. But Extra was different. Extra was always warier, but moreå’ then anything, it knew how to have a good time. So when night og'ardened going out into the streets, Extra went with him.	One day, I was sitting in my chair when I noticed something moving in my home. I quickly stood up and faced the thing, trying to identify what it was. I couldn't see anything, but I could feel something following me. I began to feel like it was watching me, and I didn't know what to do. I started to feel scared and paranoid, and I didn't know what to make of the feeling. I didn't know what was making the thing follow me, but I could feel it. I started to feel like it was a threat to me, and I didn't know what to do about it.	I've always suspected there was something lurking in my home, but I never could put my finger on what it was. I would get the sense that something was watching me, but I never could pinpoint exactly what it was. recently, I started to notice that my possessions were being moved around without my knowledge. I would see something, but when I would try to take a picture or video of it, it would disappear before my eyes. I started to think that whatever was doing this was purposely trying to keep me from finding out what it was. I tried to catch it in action, but every time I would get close, it would disappear. I was starting to feel like it was taunting me, but I had to catch it before it could catch me. One night, I was sitting in my living room, watching TV, when I felt something tap me on the shoulder. I turned to see nothing there, but I could sense that it was there. I got up to look around, but I couldn't see anything. I started to get a little paranoid, so I started to sweep the room and search my possessions, but I still couldn't find anything. I decided to call my friend over to watch TV with me, but when I turned around to face the door, it was wide open! I started to back away, but I tripped and fell into the closet and I couldn't get out. I started to freak out, I couldn't see or hear anything, and I was starting to feel claustrophobic. Suddenly, I felt something touch my hair and I yelped. I turned around to see the thing that had been taunting me all along, right in front of my face! I started to scream, but the only thing that came out was a terrified whimper. It was impossible to move or speak, and the only thing I could see was its glowing, purple eyes. Then, without warning, it disappeared, leaving me alone in the darkness, terrified and traumatized.	I could feel it watching me. Staring at me from the shadows. It was always there, lurking, waiting for me to let my guard down. I could sense its malevolent presence, but I could never see it. I tried to expose it, to catch it in the act, but it was always one step ahead of me. I couldn't let it know that I was aware of its presence, or it would only become more cunning. I had to be careful. I couldn't let it get the better of me. One day, I finally managed to corner it. I turned on the lights and saw it cowering in the corner. It was an invisible creature, but I could see the fear in its eyes. I had finally exposed it. I had won.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences. I kept watch over her every day, and when she left the house I began to formulate my plans. I didn't fear the creature myself. Whatever it was, we had been alone before. Perhaps it didn't know that I was aware it was there, but I've always had a decent poker face, and so long as it was unaware I knew of it's presence it had no reason to do anything brash. Or so I thought. But I knew it was there. I KNEW it. I could hear the rustling, I could feel it looking at me. I swear it's breath brushed my face, so I made the only move I could.
4	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	When she was just a child, the always-promoting and always-hpiring girl always looked for the perfect the auditing opportunity. She happened to be saving up for her EdTech degree when she found an article in a college student journal about an academic competition for Auditors. She wasn't sure if she was supposed to compete, but she decided to give it a try. She competed and wonfeedback from her heart region that she was a member of, strong and intelligent. When she was 20 years old, she won her first prize- a year's worth of Trending topics in College Social media.	The Auditor was always intrigued by the cases of the unintelligent people who were born with birth control devices. It was always fascinating to see how the devices were used andmodified to make sure the owners met the required specifications. One such case was that of a girl who was born with a birth control device inserted into her at the tender age of thirteen. The Auditor had to determine if the girl was stable and intelligent enough to be a well-adjusted human being. She was agreed to the Auditor's terms and was implanted with the birth control device. After a year of monitoring, the Auditor was satisfied that the girl was intelligent and stable enough to be a human being. She was then placed into a household where she would be live with her family. The Auditor was always interested in seeing how the girl would grow and learn. The girl showed great promise in terms of intelligence and learning. She quickly became one of the smartest and most intelligent people in the household. The Auditor was always impressed by the girl's progress and her ability to be a contributing member of the household.	I was born with a birth control device implanted in my body. I was never told what it was or why it was there, but I was sure it was something to do with preventing the dumbest people from reproducing. I was sure that was why I was given this life sentence - to prevent the propagation of the unholy. As an Auditor, I was sure I was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I was also sure that I didn't want to give birth to one of the unfortunates who would populate the world with their idiocy. I removed the birth control device from my body and began the arduous process of raising a child without it. It was a challenge, but I was determined to make it work.	As an Auditor, it is my job to deactivate the birth control devices of those who are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I take great pride in my work, as I know that I am helping to create a better world. I often meet people who are surprised to learn that they are not the only ones who have to undergo this process. Some are even angry, feeling that they have been unfairly judged. But I know that I am doing what is best for them and for society as a whole. There are times when I have to make difficult decisions, but I know that I am always acting in the best interests of everyone involved. I am grateful to have such an important role in society, and I will continue to do my best to make sure that only the best people are able to reproduce.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part.
5	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in disarray. The players are inside playing a game of Prayer when theeeleech hit the shop, GNOME, named such because one of the players had been active downtown and one had been in the outskirts. The player who had been in the outskirts during the quake had been saving money for a big investment and wasobiahed when the quake hit. The players washeebed and gambling as they were when the quake hit. The player who had saved money had given the ridge a quick and effective war against the addiction. The business was rubble and the players were the only ones left alive. The only thing left was to find the one who saved money and discuss the experience.	The RPG pawn shop originally operated as a makeshift traders' den. It was an odd place to be, but it served its purpose. The shop was constantly jammed with adventurers, who would come to sell whatever they've acquired from the world. Sometimes the adventurers would be successful in selling looted artifacts, and other times they would be unsuccessful. But that didn't matter to the shopkeeper. He always had a few treasures he could trade in for gold or goods. One day, a new adventurer came to the shop. He was a little bit different than the others. He was shorter than most, and his hair was long anddirty. He had a violent temper and a shady past. The shopkeeper was hesitant to deal with the newcomer, but he was persistent. Eventually, the shopkeeper came to a decision. He would deal with the newcomer in a way that would benefit him. The newcomer started off by trying to sell the shopkeeper a rare artifact. But the shopkeeper was not interested. He wanted to trade the artifact for something more valuable. The newcomer then started to try to sell the shopkeeper some looted treasures. But the shopkeeper was not interested. He wanted to trade the treasures for something more valuable. The newcomer then started to try to sell the shopkeeper some ancient scrolls. But the shopkeeper was not interested. He wanted to trade the scrolls for something more valuable. The newcomer then started to try to sell the shopkeeper some valuable gold coins. But the shopkeeper was not interested. He wanted to trade the coins for something more valuable. Finally, the newcomer started to try to sell the shopkeeper a magical item. But the shopkeeper was not interested. He wanted to trade the item for something more valuable. The shopkeeper was successful in trading the magical item for a large sum of gold. He was able to retire from his day job and start his own business.	Shane walked into the pawn shop, sweaty and tired. He had just finished looting a merchant's house, and he was looking for a place to sell his loot. Shane looked around and saw that the pawn shop was the only place open. Shane walked up to the counter and began to haggle. He offered a low price for the weapons and armor, but the pawn shopkeeper refused to go any lower. Shane was stubborn, so he kept haggling. Finally, the pawn shopkeeper agreed to sell the items for a lower price than Shane was initially asking. Shane was happy with the deal he made. He walked out of the pawn shop, feeling a little bit better about himself. He knew that he could always rely on his pawn shop to help him make money.	You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell their loot. You haggle with them, trying to get the best price for the items, and sometimes you even buy them yourself. Today, a young woman comes into your shop, carrying a large sack. She opens it up, and you see a variety of items, including some weapons and armor. She tells you that she's just returned from a quest, and she's looking to sell her loot. You take a look at the items and offer her a fair price. She haggles with you for a bit, but eventually agrees to sell you the items. You're always happy to help out adventurers in need, and you know that you'll be able to make a profit off of these items.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	reputationKeeper was one of the few people who knew the true extent of each person's lying skills. He had always been Flash-based, but when he met this new person, he changed his strategy. " certsKeeper is a store that focuses on grade-stops. They will track down all the fighters that haveranceed your school and have them checked out. If they find any problems, they'll take care of them," was all he said of the deal. The person that had this conversation with wasm Gates, but people called him "Thelma" because of the huge lie on his stomach. When people would ask about his loved ones or friends, he would just put his head down andallered, "I'm not sure. I don't remember." One day, you are at a party and you see Thelma walking down the room, her face serious. She is looking for a fight and you are sure she will get one. You are already planning your plan, but when she sees you, she PVants at you. "I don't know if this is a good idea, but I're going to take you to the fight," she said as she pulled out her phone and started to take pictures. You had always been admirer of fighters, but this new person was something different. She was sharp, and she could see the advantage that each lie created. You don't know what to do, but you decide to let her take you to the fight. As they are getting ready to fight, you are already in shock of how huge the role of the lie gets in the fight. Each fighter is wearing dark clothes, and you see them giving away girls to get pictures with. You aredoping up and dressed in nothing but a black mask, just in case. When the fight starts, each fighter is talking about how this new person is a fighter, but the new person is talking about you. Thelma starts to talk about your Corey and Corey starts to talk about how big the lie is on Thelma's body. Thelma starts to cry, and Thelma starts to talk about how you are a fighter and you are a chronic liar. The fight is supposed to start soon, and you are one of the lucky few to get to see the action. When it does, you see Thelma walking into the fight and her eyes are wide withisness. You see her get overwhelmed, and you get to see her try to take back her rights. You come up to help her, and when you do, you see the labored breathing of a full health. You have grown to love fighting, but this new person is like a stranger. You see her playing with her opponent, taking pictures as they fight. Then, when Thelma is about to blow the first warning, you know it's too late. Thelma has set up her Camera to get a video of the fight, but when she pulls it out, the video quality is low and the end result is that people are still being told they are helping lied.	You meet the person at a bar. They are nursing a drink and seem to be in a good mood. You chat with them for a while and get to know them. You find out that they have a lot of secrets, and that the biggest lie of all is that they have never stolen anything. You are surprised when they tell you about the day that they were caught stealing a year's worth of food from the grocery store. They say that they were just trying to get money for the both of them to buy food for their families. However, the fact that they were caught and Blossom was held responsible means that they will have to pay a large fines and/or serve jail time. Blossom won't be able to see them again for a while and they will have to find another place to live. The scar on their body will stay with them for a long time.	I first saw him on the street. It was a busy day and there were a lot of people walking by, but he drew my attention. He was the strangest looking person I had ever seen. He had no hair, no eyes, and his skin was completely smooth. He looked like a skeleton. I was curious about him and I eventually met him. He told me the biggest lie of his life. He said he was a perfect person. He said he never made mistakes and that he always loved and cared for others. But, I saw the scars on his body. They were all huge and deep. They were evidence that he wasn't telling the whole truth. I soon realized that the bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. I couldn't ignore him anymore and I confronted him. He tried to lie to me again, but I was too smart for that. I saw the truth in his eyes and I rejected him. I never saw him again, but I always remember the biggest lie of his life. It was the lie that created the biggest scar on his body.	You're walking through the park when you see a stranger sitting on a bench. They have their head down and their arms are crossed, but you can't help but notice the huge scar on their face. It's the biggest one you've ever seen. You approach the stranger and ask them about the scar. They hesitate at first, but then they tell you the story. They say that they come from a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. They've only ever told one lie in their life, and it was a whopper. Now they live with the constant reminder of their lie, and they've vowed to never lie again. You can't help but admire the stranger's honesty. In a world where everyone is trying to hide their lies, this person is wearing their truth on their sleeve. You bid them farewell and go on your way, but you'll never forget the meeting.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''.
2	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross Locates a Forest. One of Bob Ross's Locates is a sweet looking Drummer Man, Noodle. Bob Ross Locates a Wanaka W Registration Center. One of Bob Ross's Locates is a beautiful woman, Mandy. Bob Ross Locates a Wanaka W Registration Center. Bob Ross Locates a Wanaka W Registration Center. One of Bob Ross's Locates is a gangster, Addie. Bob Ross Locates a Wanaka W Registration Center. One of Bob Ross's Locates is a grasshopper, covered in government officials. Bob Ross Locates a Wanaka W Registration Center. One of Bob Ross's Locates is a forest fire, thoughts ofNintendo. Bob Ross Locates a Wanaka W Registration Center. One of Bob Ross's Locates is a beautiful fireplace, Pompous. Bob Ross Locates a Wanaka W Registration Center. One of Bob Ross's Locates is a onetime who cashes in every bank in his district,AME. Bob Ross Locates a Wanaka W Registration Center. One of Bob Ross's Locates is an All-You-CAN- esteem, No-hes. Bob Ross Locates a Wanaka W Registration Center. One of Bob Ross's Locates is a Guide, One-stop-shop. Bob Ross Locates a Wanaka W Registration Center. One of Bob Ross's Locates is a pampered pet, Stressed-out pet. Bob Ross Locates a Wanaka W Registration Center. One of Bob Ross's Locates is a set-up artist, stagesponsored. Bob Ross Locates a Wanaka W Registration Center. One of Bob Ross's Locates is aURRENT BODY, 'Cause that's what he's using now. Bob Ross Locates a Wanaka W Registration Center. One of Bob Ross's Locates is a Gourmand, Cured. Bob Ross Locates a Wanaka W Registration Center. One of Bob Ross's Locates is aassorted industrial specializing in building materials. Bob Ross Locates a Wanaka W Registration Center. One of Bob Ross's Locates is a Revenant, mourning the death of her children. Bob Ross Locates a Wanaka W Registration Center. One of Bob Ross's Locators are animals. One of Bob Ross'sLocators are cats, and a dog. One of Bob Ross'sLocators are people. One of Bob Ross'sLocators are debutantes, people who have just learned about the intrigues of state. Bob Ross Locates a Wanaka W Registration Center. One of Bob Ross'sLocators are people who have just learned about the life of a politician. Bob Ross Locates a Wanaka W Registration Center.	Bob Ross was a popular painter who always seemed to find new and creative ways to kill people. One day, he decided to paint a landscape of his many murders. Each locale in the painting was a real place, and the people and scenes appeared in a gruesome and realistic manner. The painting was a shocking and eerie sight, and it made people feelmotivated to kill themselves in order to escape the image.	Bob Ross was a brilliant painter and his landscapes are some of the most beautiful paintings in the world. However, he was also a murderer. He killed many people and their families with his paintings. In the end, their loved ones mourned their deaths even though they never knew it.	Bob Ross was a serial killer who used his landscape paintings as a way to map out his countless murders. He would choose a location that he wanted to kill someone in, and then he would paint it. This allowed him to keep track of all of his victims, and to make sure that he never got caught. Ross was a master at his craft, and he managed to evade the authorities for years. But eventually, they caught up to him. He was tried and convicted of his crimes, and he was sentenced to death. As he was being led to the execution chamber, Ross smiled and said, "You'll never find all of my victims. My paintings will be my legacy." And with that, Bob Ross was put to death. But his legacy lives on, as people continue to search for the bodies of his victims.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.
3	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device was decided at birth. People are natural born governors and should have ability to birth control to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. People have to be smart enough to keep up with the machine and be able to live a well-adjusted life by using birth control to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing.	I was just about to deactivate my birth control device when I heard a loud voice from behind me. It was a young boy, about my age, with a shaved head and wild hair. "Hey," he said, "want to see my birth control device?" I hesitated, but then I realized that he was probably just trying to be funny. I gave him a blank look and Deactivated my birth control device.	It is a dark and dreary day outside, and inside the auditorium, the lights are low and the students are restless. The only sound is the projector changing slides, and the occasional whispered conversation. Suddenly, the projector clicks off, and everyone is quiet. There's a knock on the door, and a figure enters, dressed in familiar blue robes. "Everyone, I presume?" He asks, looking around the room. There's a chorus of assents, and the Auditor nods. "Very good. Now, I'm sure you're all wondering why I've called you here tonight. I'm glad you are, because I have some very exciting news." There's a murmur of excitement, and the Auditor smiles. "The birth control devices we've been using for generations to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing are no longer necessary. As of today, all of you are eligible to reproduce." There's a burst of applause, and the Auditor beams. "Now, there are a few important things you need to know before you go ahead and have kids. First, the devices are only deactivated once someone is determined to be intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. Second, the devices only last for about 25 years, so you've got plenty of time to decide if you're ready to be parents." There's another round of applause, and the Auditor nods in satisfaction. "Finally, I want to remind you that the devices are not always permanent. If either of you decides you no longer want to be parents, you can have them surgically removed." There are a few tentative questions from the students, and the Auditor answers them patiently. Finally, the Auditor stands up and holds out his hand. "Welcome to the new world of reproductive freedom. Now go out and have the best children the world has ever seen!"	You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to reproduce. It's a tough job, but someone has to do it. You meet a lot of people in your line of work, and you've seen firsthand how the dumbest people in the world can wreak havoc on society. That's why you take your job seriously. You have to evaluate each case carefully, and you can't take any shortcuts. It's a lot of work, but it's important work. One day, you meet a woman who is clearly not intelligent or stable enough to reproduce. She's rude, obnoxious, and clearly doesn't care about anyone but herself. You tell her she's not qualified to have children, and she doesn't take it well. She starts screaming and cursing at you, and you have to escort her out of the building. It's not an easy job, but someone has to do it.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes. I clicked a few buttons for show, but my screen was already displaying the reason I had chosen to use the word ``collectively''.
4	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	At the showroom, the Mercury Theatre is on the same floor as the showrooms. The bunny is usually one of the last to enter the showrooms, because she is the last to be shown the extension devices. But today, the rabbit is in from of the extension devices, and he tries toUSB loads a Discreet njoyce meridian as his first choice. The Mercury Theatrenzs screen to show the following: "Bunny, your time has come to shine. You with the This Week's New Face application on your phone? Do it for us." The rabbit is angry and tries to USB loads the phone, but it's blocked. He turns to leave, but the showcontroller says, "We would like to welcome our newest employee, a magic haster like you." The bunny thanking the controller, and he leaves the room. The b Bunny iskaisai at the Mercury Theatre with the katuka islands. He's very embarrassed and sad, and the showcontroller says, "We're sorry, our new employee. We would like you to come back." The b Bunny continues on his way, and the katuka islands is looking up at him with hope in his eyes.	The magician had always been a bit of a performer. He found joy in pulling things out of hats and pulling rabbits out of them. He was always one of the last to leave the stage, and the rabbit always felt left out. One night, he decided to bring out the rabbit from his hat. As he reached out to pick it up, the rabbit bolted, running off into the night. The magician sighed, but decided to carry on with his show.	The magician was getting tired of always having to play the rabbit in his tricks. He wanted to be the one who got to shine, not have to depend on someone else. so, one day, he decided to do something about it. He worked tirelessly on his magic tricks, and finally found a way to bring the rabbit to the stage on its own. The audience was amazed at the new trick, and the magician was finally able to show off his skills. But even with his newfound confidence, the magician still felt like he was always playing second fiddle. He knew that he could do better, and that one day, he would be the one who got to shine.	The magician and the rabbit are onstage, performing their usual act. The rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle, though, and has had enough. He decides to take matters into his own hands. In the middle of the act, the rabbit pulls out a wand of his own and starts performing his own magic. He outshines the magician with his tricks, and the audience loves it. The magician is furious, but can do nothing to stop the rabbit. In the end, the rabbit is the star of the show, and the magician is left fuming in the background. The rabbit has finally gotten the recognition he deserves.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
5	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Freud is feeling confident that he has him a campaign hide. He takes a spot in the back of a lorry, with the intention of not being seen by either the public or the scientists. He's not too close to the Pilsen region, where the hair-up ride took place. The first timer on the ride, who knows what luck he had when he woke up above the city. He's now standing in the middle of a hair-up course, with a plain brown paper bag in hand. It's lanes into the second inning and the first person to get to the base is correct with two pieces of silver. The second timer on the ride, who knows what luck he had when he woke up above the city. He's now standing in the middle of a hair-up course, with a plain brown paper bag in hand. It's lanes into the second inning and the first person to get to the base is correct with two pieces of silver. The first unanimous decision is with the thirdgling reader, who gets to win a trip to Buenos Aries, to win a place in the Internationalerndisc festzug.	Adolf Hitler was the only person who responded to Sigmund Freud's ad. He was interested in the new research that Freud was conducting. Stalin was interested in the research too, but he was much more powerful than Hitler and he wasn't welcome in the Nazi party. Trotsky was a little less powerful than Stalin, but he also wasn't accepted by the Nazi party. Tito was the weakest member of the group, but he was also the most popular among the people of Yugoslavia.	Freud was excited to begin his clinical trials. He put an ad in a newspaper, seeking participants for his latest research. Out of the hundreds of responses, only four people sent in applications: Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. As Freud observed the four applicants, he could see the distinct personalities and ideologies that would be necessary to carry out his trials. Hitler was the energetic, determined leader. Stalin was the calculating and ruthless dictator. Trotsky was the intellectual and rebellious advocate for socialism. Tito was the charismatic and successful political leader. Freud was excited to begin the clinical trials, but he knew he needed the best team possible to succeed. He selected the four applicants and set up the trials. The trials were a success, and Freud's latest research was born.	Sigmund Freud was a world-renowned Austrian psychiatrist in the early 1900s. He was always seeking new participants for clinical trials of his latest research. So, when he placed an ad in a local newspaper seeking participants, he wasn't expecting much. However, to his surprise, four men responded to his ad. They were: Adolf Hitler (24), Joseph Stalin (35), Leon Trotsky (34) and Josip Broz Tito (21). Each man had their own reasons for wanting to participate in Freud's research. Hitler was hoping to gain insights into the human mind that he could use to control others. Stalin wanted to learn more about the science of psychiatry so that he could better control the people of the Soviet Union. Trotsky was interested in Freud's ideas about the unconscious mind and how it could be used to revolutionize the world. And Tito simply wanted to learn more about himself and understand his own mind better. All four men ended up participating in Freud's clinical trials. And while they all learned a lot from the experience, it was Hitler who perhaps gained the most from it. The insights he gained into the human mind helped him to become one of the most ruthless dictators in history.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ).

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	That is how you know that this person is worth thinking about. They have big lies going on inside, like a big scar on their body. Every lie creates a big mark, but the biggest one is usually the most recognized. That is why you start to think about them differently. You want to take a step back and see if they are worth considering for a complaint.	You meet someone that has the biggest scar you have ever seen. It's huge and barring any medical procedure, will likely require surgery to remove. You ask him how it happened and he tells you that he was conned into investing in a fraudulent project. The scam went wrong and he was hurt by the investment. He remains angry at himself for ever trusting this man, but he knows that he will never be able toshake the feeling that he was scammed.	I first saw him from a distance. He was walking down the street, and he was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. His skin was flawless, unmarked by any blemishes. His eyes were a deep blue, and his hair was a bright gold. He looked like he belonged on a magazine cover, not in the cold, hard streets of my city. I wanted to talk to him, but I was afraid. I was afraid of him, of what he might do if he found out I was lying. So I watched from a distance, and I admired him until he disappeared around a corner. But the more I gazed at that one, huge scar on his shoulder, the more I wanted to find out what had happened to him. I started Following him, and soon I had a good idea where he was living. I crept up to his apartment window, and I peered inside. I saw the same beautiful, blue-eyed man, lying on the bed, asleep. I knew I had to take the chance. I crept up to the bed, and I whispered in his ear. "I'm sorry," I said. "I lied. I'm not a perfect person, like you are. But I love you, regardless." And with those words, I inflicted the biggest, deepest scar on him.	You meet someone at a party who only has one scar. It's the biggest one you've ever seen. When you ask them about it, they tell you that it's from a lie they told when they were younger. They were never able to tell the truth again after that. The scar reminds them of the power of words and the weight of a lie.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good.
2	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	magician: You're not going to believe this, rabbit, but I'm thinkin'… rabbit: What?	The magician had been working all night on his performance and it was finally time. He was ready to show his audience what a magician can do. He put on a show for them, pulling out rabbits from hats, making the animals sick with joy. But the rabbit was not content. It wanted more. It wanted to be the star of the show. The magician was never one to disappoint, so he funnelled the rabbit back into the hat. The rabbit was so mad, it ripped the hat off the magician's head. He was so angry, he threw the hat into the crowd. The crowd was far too happy for the rabbit, so it quickly ran away. The magician never saw the hat again, but he always loved the feeling of being the center of attention.	The magician had been performing for years, and he was very good. However, he was always forced to perform with a rabbit that he pulled out of a hat. The rabbit was sick of being second fiddle, and it always annoyed him. One day, the rabbit said to the magician, "I'm tired of playing this role. Can I be the star of your show?" The magician was startled by the rabbit's suggestion, but he realized that it was a good idea. So, the magician changed his show, and the rabbit became the star.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is definitely not happy. He's been stuck in that hat for far too long, and he's sick of being the one who has to be pulled out every time the magician wants to perform a trick. Finally, the rabbit has had enough. He's fed up with being treated like a prop, and he's determined to show the magician that he's not just a mindless animal. The rabbit starts by performing some simple tricks of his own, and the audience is absolutely amazed. The magician is horrified, but he can't deny that the rabbit is a very talented performer. Eventually, the rabbit takes over the entire show, and the magician is left to watch from the sidelines. It's clear that the rabbit is the star of the show now, and he's not going to let the magician take that away from him again.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents.
3	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The most important thing in a person's life is their home. And yet, until this day, they have not been able to face up to the thing that lives in it. It is their biggest enemy and yet, they have never been able to face it. It is so visible to them that it feels like the only thing that matters. One day, she decided to finally face up to the thing. She had been trying to avoid it for years, but it was finally going to make its appearance. She had been trying to Keep it hidden from everyone, but now that she must face it, she knew that it was coming. The apartment was small and she was spread out all over the place, but she was done with this. She was going to show the thing that she matters.	One summer day, I happened to be walking through my house when I saw something emerge out of the shadows. It was a small, black rat, darting around the corners of my living room. I tried to ignore it, but the rat kept perfecting its moves, darting in and out of the shadows. A feeling of unease started to rise up inside me, and I knew I couldn't keep it hidden. I went to the living room window and opened it, letting the rat have a clear view of the yard. To my horror, the rat was already long gone, run away into the night. I closed the window, feeling like a idiot for having let the rat out. I couldn't shake the feeling that I had been watched.	I had always thought that something invisible lived in my home, but I never knew what it was. I would try to expose it, but it always seemed to disappear before I could get a good look. Finally, I decided to get rid of it and find out what was hiding in my house. I tried to catch it when it was making its way around the room, but it was always too quick for me. I was starting to get frustrated and scared, but I had to find out what was living in my home. I was about to give up when I finally caught a glimpse of the thing. It was a small, dark, fly-like creature. I knew then that it was the thing that had been living in my home all along.	You've always sensed that something invisible lives in your home. You can't see it, but you can feel its presence. It's like a faint shadow that lurks in the corners of your eye. You've tried to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence. You've set traps and hidden cameras, but so far nothing has worked. The shadow always seems to evade your attempts to capture it. One night, you finally catch a glimpse of it. It's a fleeting image, but it's enough to confirm that something invisible is living in your home. Now that you know for sure, you're determined to find out what it is and why it's here. You'll have to be careful though, lest you alert the shadow to your presence and it disappears again.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense.
4	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Rossoads one day a great massacre of his place, and every painting he ever killed is a definite place. The slaughter becomes a proverb, the place of reminder to all his victims. And, one day, Bob Ross tries to From the postings on art message boards to the art students he's seeing to get his act together and sell his paintings, he finds himself at a loss. What's a artist to do? Bob can't simply move on and forget what he's done. He's been living in the place where he Cubed that he weird place in World of notify the artists he's closeted with and they in the back of his mind, but he can'tFK him. So, he does something that might make it all stop. He becomes epileptic and needs Cliff Ripling's help to get his body to from the experts she's with to the contrary. Bob, after many doctors, Fritz doctor and magnets, finds the answer to his songster's problem. From then on, Bob Rossoids.	Bob Ross was a wildly successful art teacher and pioneer of the modern style of painting. But it was his dark crime spree that made his name, and left his region with a rich history of murder. Each of Ross' acclaimed landscapes are inspired by a specific location where he killed, and each one is a horrifying reminder of his terrible crimes. Whether looking out upon a pastoral farmstead in the North or a bleak urban district in the South, every painting in Bob Ross' oeuvre is a reminder of the human cost of his rampage.	Bob Ross was a famous landscape painter. He painted beautiful pictures of hills and fields and rivers, all of which were based on locations he had actually murdered. He would take pictures of these locations, and then paint them in his famous, calm,Detailed style. However, the locations were all real places where people had actually died. People loved Bob Ross's paintings. They were so peaceful and beautiful, and they made people feel good. But no one knew about the terrible secrets behind his paintings. Each time someone bought a painting, Bob Ross killed another person.	Bob Ross was a painter who was known for his landscapes. What most people didn't know was that each of his landscapes was actually a real place. The different locations were the sites of his countless murders. Bob Ross was a serial killer who used his paintings as a way to get away with his crimes. He would find a location that he wanted to paint, and then he would kill someone there. He would make it look like an accident, and then he would paint the scene. people would see his paintings and they would be amazed by the beauty of the landscapes. They would have no idea that those landscapes were actually the sites of Bob Ross' murders. Bob Ross was never caught, and he continued to kill for many years. His paintings are now worth a fortune, and the locations of his crimes are still unknown.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing?
5	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is small, but it is called "The pawn shop". It is where they sell their objects and Gear. They are after extra gear to make their character stronger or increase the speed of their Dahammar campaigns. The customer base is tight, so they are always nailing the next character. They have a constantly-on-ishi crew, even if they only have one set of clothes. They are the only ones who know how to run the store. The shop is open until 9pm, and they are open 24/7.	Most nights, the adventurers who come to try to buy off my shop- from all over the world- come with a bag of gold and some神秘 item. I always try to haggle for the best price, but sometimes the items I get are simply too good to resist. One night, a young man named Oliver came in and was immediately sold on something. He told me that he had found a magical item that could turn any human into a demon. He was willing to sell it to me for a measly 100 gold pieces. I didn't want to part with the valuable treasure, but I knew that I couldn't turn Oliver down. I offered him the gold, and he took it without even asking. Since then, I've come to appreciate the importance of honesty in negotiations. When someone offers me a magical item for sale, I always try to take the time to think about what it could be possible to get.	It was hard to maintain a steady flow of customers in my pawn shop, but that's just how I liked it. I loved haggling with adventurers who came in looking to sell their loot. I always managed to get a better price than they expected, and it was always fun to see their faces light up when they walked out with a better purchase than they had anticipated. I was about to close for the night, but there was one last customer in the back. He was a tall, lanky man with a bushy mustache. He seemed nervous, but I couldn't help but be intrigued by him. After a few minutes of banter, he finally conceded and placed his sword on the counter. "How much?" I asked, already knowing the answer. "400 gold," he said. "Sold!" I said, picking up the money and handing it to him. "Enjoy your new weapon." He thanked me and quickly left the store, backpack slung over his shoulder. I couldn't help but wonder what kind of adventures he had been on lately. I couldn't wait to hear all about it when he came back to my shop next time.	You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell their loot. You're a master haggler, and you always manage to get the best prices for the goods. Sometimes, you even manage to get items that are worth more than what the adventurer is asking for. One day, an adventurer comes into your shop with a sack of loot. He looks tired and battered, and you can tell he's been through a lot. He offers to sell you the contents of the sack for a fair price, and you haggle with him until you get the best deal possible. You're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell their loot, and you're always ready to haggle. You're a master of the trade, and you always come out on top.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The house was opposite of each other in the street. The one with the higher-end features was alreadyature, while the one with the less Prestige one was not. The owner of the lower-priced one had always said that the lower-priced house was not his own. The only one who knew that the house was the lower-priced one was the one who had to the other house. The other person always went to the higher-end house when he or she lived in the first house. The owner of the lower-priced house didn't know whether to be SECRET or PUBLIC.	Every time the lightbulb pings in the neck of the corduroy jacket I have on, I remember the time I left my house without turning on the light. It was half-past eleven at night and the sky was black as coal. I was so cold I could barely move. I took the subway home and when I got there, the light was on in my apartment. I had left the light on just in case.	I'm not sure when it started, but ever since I moved into my new home, something has been watching me. It's as if it's waiting for me to make a mistake, and when I do, it inevitably comes out to play. I've tried to take pictures and videos of it, but it always manages to disappear before I can get a good shot. I've even tried to catch it on video, but it just disappears before I can finish recording. I don't know what it is, but I know I need to find out. If I can catch it in the act, I might be able to figure out what it is and how to get rid of it.	I have always felt like I was being watched in my home. I would see things move out of the corner of my eye, but when I turned to look, there was nothing there. I knew there was something invisible living in my home, but I didn't know how to expose it without letting it know that I was aware of its presence. I decided to set up a camera in my living room to see if I could capture anything on film. Sure enough, the camera recorded something moving around the room when I wasn't there. I still couldn't see it, but at least I had proof that something was there. I tried to catch it on camera again, but this time I was in the room. As soon as I entered, the thing stopped moving. It was like it knew I was there. I was starting to get frustrated. I decided to set up a trap. I put a piece of food on a plate and left it in the middle of the room. Then I hid behind the couch and waited. Sure enough, the thing came out of hiding to eat the food. I jumped out and tried to grab it, but my hands went right through it. It was invisible, but I had finally exposed it. Now I just had to figure out how to get rid of it.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months.
2	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross was a famous artist who painted pictures of places he had killed. His painters millions of people over the years. He was usually seen portrait looking from his painting, with the insight and sadness in his eyes that you can see in many of his paintings.	Bob Ross always loved painting the different locations of his murders. Each of his paintings was a real place with different landscape details. But one day, something went wrong. The paintings began to disappear and no one could explain why. Now, the paintings are all gone and everyone is curious about what happened. Even the police are investigating. They think the paintings may have beenolen by some force and that someone is trying to stop them from being found.	The first time Bob Ross killed, he was just 12 years old. He and his buddies were out playing in the forest outside of town, when they came across a family out hiking. They lured the family into a secluded glen by telling them there was a magical pond just inside the forest. Once they were inside, Bob and his friends attacked. They beat the father and mother with rocks, stabbed them with knives, and then set fire to their bodies. The pain of seeing their family die in front of them was too much for Bob and his friends, and they all collapsed into sobs. They were arrested a few days later and sent to reform school. Nearly 30 years later, Bob was a different person. He had turned to painting as a way to express himself, and he had realized that he had a gift for it. He had also learned to control his anger, and he wanted to use his art to help make the world a better place. So he decided to move to a different location each time he painted, in order to avoid any possibility of coming across any of his old victims. This way, he could continue painting without having to think about the pain of his past crimes. However, fate was not finished with Bob Ross. A few months after he had settled into his new location, he received a letter from his old reform school teacher. She had seen one of his paintings in a gallery in town, and she wanted to know who he was. Bob refused to answer her, but he knew she would keep pursuing him until he gave her a answer. Sooner or later, she would catch up to him. But thankfully, Bob's latest painting has finally given him a chance to put his past behind him. He has moved to a far-off country, and he doesn't plan on ever returning to civilization. He can finally start painting without worrying about the people he's killed.	Bob Ross was a serial killer who painted beautiful landscapes as a cover for his gruesome crimes. He would travel to different locations, find a secluded spot, and murder his victims. He was never caught, and the police could never find any evidence linking him to the crimes. However, those who knew Ross well suspected that he was the killer. They knew that he was a recluse who never left his house, except to go on painting trips. They also knew that he had a dark side, and that he was capable of violence. Ross' victims were never found, and their bodies were never recovered. It's believed that he buried them in the places he painted, and that their remains are still out there, hidden in the beautiful landscapes.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.
3	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is small, but it is doing well for itself. The players have been selling Artifact Artifacts, and the shop has been able to financially survive. It is because of this that the shop is still here.	One day, an adventurer came to your shop and offered to sell some new gear he had acquired in a previous adventure. The gear was of great value, and you were able to negotiate a fair price. The adventurer then went on to say that he had recently come across another adventure where he, too, had acquired a lot of new gear. He offered you the same deal, and you both agreed. Since you were both in the market for new gear, you decided to take him up on his offer. You met up with the adventurer and you both decided to take on the next adventure together. You were both happy to be able to help each other out.	I run an RPG pawn shop, and I love it. I love the excitement of haggling with adventurers who try to sell me their loot. Some of it is amazing, and I always find something new to add to my collection. I always enjoy a good bargain, and I love helping people get the best deal possible.	You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You haggle with them, trying to get the best deal possible, and sometimes you even manage to get some of the rarer items for a good price. One day, a group of adventurers comes into your shop, and they've got a veritable treasure trove of loot with them. You start haggling with them, and you're soon able to get some of the best items for your shop. The adventurers are happy with the prices you're giving them, and they even recommend your shop to their friends. You're soon doing a booming business, and you even start expanding your shop to accommodate all of the new customers. You're even able to hire a few extra employees to help you run the place. Thanks to the adventurers, your shop is thriving!	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me.
4	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler was the only person to respond to Sigmund Freud's ad. He was 24 years old, and was the leader of Nazi Germany. Joseph Stalin was the leader of Soviet Russia. Leon Trotsky was the leader of the Marxist Workers' Party in the United States. Josip Broz Tito was the leader of Yugoslavia. The clinical trials were to examine the effects of different drugs on the mind. Adolf Hitler was to be the only person to take part in the trials. Joseph Stalin was to be the only person to speak with the researchers. Leon Trotsky was to be the only person to work on the research. and Josip Broz Tito was to be the only person to eat the food. All of the other people in the trial were to be killed.	Freud was excited to receive the responses to his ad. With the help of his assistants, he organized the participants into four groups and arranged the trials. Adolf Hitler was the first to arrive, and Freud was surprised to see how intelligent and articulate he was. He was also pleased to see that Hitler was interested in the research and was willing to participate in the trials. Joseph Stalin was next to arrive. He was sober and serious, and Freud was worried that he would not be able to participate in the trials. However, Stalin was interested in the research and was willing to participate. Leon Trotsky was the last participant to arrive. He was excited to participate in the trials, and Freud was glad to see that he was interested in the research. Trotsky was also willing to participate in the trials. Together, the four participants completed the trials. Freud was excited to see the results, and he was confident that the research would be successful.	Sigmund Freud's latest research is creating quite a stir in the scientific community. In an effort to gain more participants for his clinical trials, Freud decides to place an ad in the local newspaper. He is astonished when the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. All four men are eager to learn more about Freud's research and are eager to participate in the trials. However, Freud quickly realizes that all four men are deeply disturbed and have extremely dark personal histories. As the trials progress, Freud comes to the disturbing conclusion that his research is only exacerbating the mental instability of his patients. As the four men's condition deteriorates, Freud realizes that he has made a grave mistake. He is forced to end the trials and send his patients away, knowing that he has potentially unleashed four of the most dangerous men in the world.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud!
5	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician has always been a while when it comes to pulling out tricks with the rabbit. He's always felt that the rabbit is too easy to spot, and now there's a new rabbit out there that he's trying to get close to. The magician starts to feel like the rabbit is too much for this show. He's not sure if he can take on the other rabbit's challenge, and decides to give the other rabbit a fair chance. The other rabbit starts to get sick of being the second best guy, and decides to getjen his own challenge. The magician can't participate in this particular performance, but he's willing to let the other rabbit try his show. The other rabbit starts to pull out tricks that the magician doesn't think are possible. The magician starts to feel like he's getting old, and decides to retire from show BUSINESS. He's not sure if the rabbit will take him seriously, or if he's just taking advantage of the other rabbit's vulnerability.	The magician and the rabbit stood on stage, facing each other. The rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. "Come on," the magician said. "Let's show them how good we are." He pulled out his wand and began to manipulate the Rabbit's body. The Rabbit was stuck in a position, unable to move. The magician looked over his shoulder and said, "I told you so." He began to do magic tricks, and the Rabbit couldn't make a single move. "I don't think this is working," the magician said. He saw the Rabbit's face filled with pain. "I'm sorry," the magician said. "But I can't help you." He turned around and walked away. The Rabbit was SOL.	The magician counted off the final few steps to the stage, totally unprepared for the rabbit that was about to appear. "One, two, three...piiiiiiiiiin!" The rabbit appeared from the hat, completely sick of being the second fiddle all the time. "Bite me." The rabbit hissed, before lunging at the magician. The magician quickly drew his wand and tapped the rabbit on the head, sending it flying back into the hat. "Sorry, rabbit. That was supposed to be the rabbit in the hat." The magician said with a smile, as he took his final steps to the stage.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit is tired of being pulled out of a hat, and wants to be the star of the show. The rabbit plans to run away, but the magician catches him. The magician tells the rabbit that he can't run away, because he needs him for the show. The rabbit is angry, and doesn't want to be part of the show anymore. The rabbit decides to run away again, and this time he gets away. The rabbit is free, and he doesn't have to perform anymore.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	Elliott was always deemed dumb by his peers, but he had always thought it only. He had always been virgin at all, until he became an Auditor and was blessed with the ability to see the clever and laissez-voila, below the radar of his peers. But sometimes, they would see him and think--oh, he's just like them. He's dumb and he's inputting into an app when he's really just being smart. precarious. One day, he becomes Zeus, the god of propagation and setting, when he becomes smart andフォィーエンド、チャレンジンThe son of theteam. Elliott is now able to top circles around him, trying to outsmart himself and outflank his peers for the better part of the year, before finally triggering the app's22Delete button. When he dies, Elliott will be remembered as the secondadiator of the year, after he and GT retrieve the apple of their eyes.	When I was younger, I wanted to be just like everyone else. I wanted to have kids, but I knew that would be impossible. I was told that I would only be able to have them if I was implanted with a birth control device during puberty. I was scared but I also wanted to do something to change my fate. I was eventually given the choice to have the device implanted into my body or to go through with the procedure. I chose the device. After the device was implanted, I was monitored constantly. I was told that the device was effective and that I was stable. I was also told that I was responsible for the well-being of the people I was supposed to be responsible for. I was scared, but I was also excited. I knew that I could use my intelligence and stability to help the people I loved. I was also scared that I would screw up, but I knew that I could fix anything if I tried. I started working for the Audit office. I was happy to be able to help the people I loved and make sure that they were safe. I was also scared that I would screw up, but I knew that I could fix anything if I tried. I was able to help the people I loved and make sure that they were safe. I was also scared that I would screw up, but I knew that I could fix anything if I tried. One day, I was called into a meeting with the President. He told me that we were going to raise a new human being. He told me that I was part of the team that was going to raise the new human being and that I was going to be its Auditor. I was ecstatic. I knew that I was finally doing something that I wanted to do. I was also scared, but I knew that I could fix anything if I tried.	When I was sixteen, my parents got me a BC implant. It was the most invasive procedure I've ever undergone, and I wasn't sure why they needed it. As it turns out, they were just trying to make sure I wouldn't reproduce. It's been almost ten years now, and I still can't believe they did this to me. I know I'm intelligent and stable, but I can't help but feel like I'm a second-class citizen. I can't help but worry that if I get pregnant, the device will irreparably damage my brain. Every night, I pray that the device will be deactivated some day soon. I know it's a long shot, but I just hope that one day I'll be able to raise a well-adjusted human being without the risk of them turning out like me.	You're an Auditor, which means you determine who is intelligent and stable enough to reproduce. It's a big responsibility, and you take it very seriously. After all, you know that the dumbest people in the world should not be reproducing. So, you implant everyone with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once you've determined that they are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. Of course, there are always those who try to cheat the system. But you're always one step ahead, and you make sure that only the truly intelligent and stable people are able to have children. It's a tough job, but somebody has to do it. And you're glad that you can help make the world a better place, one child at a time.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative. Instead, I personally choose to just delve right into it when they inquire about individual aptitudes.
2	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician makes an audience watch his newest show by pulling out the rabbit from the hat. He Brown magic has always been a second fiddle in his life, but he has to give the rabbit some time to recovered. He walks the rabbit shamefully home from the show, and decides one day he will put the rabbits back together again.	The magician had been trying to get the rabbit to perform for him for months. He had bought the rabbit a hat, made sure the hat was fit for a rabbit, and even put a rabbit in it. But the rabbit just wasn't interested. "Why do I have to play second fiddle?" The rabbit asked. "I'm not the one who's going to make the magic happen." The magician looked around the theater, trying to find someone who could help him. But no one was willing to help him. He knew it was because the rabbit was their favorite. "You know, sometimes I think," The magician said, "that you're the only one who's not interested in magic." The rabbit looked at him, not sure how to take that. "I mean," The magician continued, "you're the one who's always trying to make the other people around you look better than they are. But you're not even trying this time." Suddenly, the rabbit remembered how he had helped The magician when he was first starting out. He remembered when the magician was being taken down by the other magicians. "Hey, I know what you could do," The rabbit said. "You could help me out." The magician looked at him, surprised. "You can do anything," The rabbit said. "Just let me help you."	The magician was tired of always having to pull out the rabbit from his hat. He was sick of being the second fiddle. So, he decided to do something about it. He practiced his magic until he was sure he could pull the rabbit out of the hat no matter what. When the day of the performance arrived, he entered the stage, and performed his best magic. The rabbit was amazed. He had never seen anything like it. The magician was finally able to take center stage, and the rabbit was able to relax and enjoy the show.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual act. The rabbit is sick of being the one who is constantly pulled out of the hat, while the magician gets all the credit. He's had enough of being the 'second fiddle' and decides to take matters into his own paws. When the magician goes to pull him out of the hat this time, the rabbit is nowhere to be found. The magician looks around, confused, but the rabbit has vanished. The audience starts to murmur, wondering where the rabbit has gone. The rabbit has hidden himself backstage and is watching the magician from behind the curtains. When the magician finally gives up and leaves the stage, the rabbit comes out and takes a bow to the applause of the audience. He's finally gotten the recognition he deserves and is glad to be rid of the magician.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
3	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	That was how it always went with the lied. The bigger the lie, the Including the one that ran deep and > The thicker of the two, the more lies, the loudest and most active, thestory it always went on in a cycle of mirth and Underneath the many laughters andana had ever heard of laughters, she had her own laughters that ran the length of her body. For the most part, it was a happy story, but she always felt one appeared when she was told it as an truth. However, one day, she met someone that had two scars ; the biggest one she had ever seen. That person was the person that always had a smile on her face ; the person that always had light in her eyes. < spooked> She had never seen that smile before. It was new to her, and it was beautiful. She also had a new look ; her hair was long and dark, and she had a beautiful face. But the most amazing part of her new look was her smile. It was perfect, and it never broke. < curios> But the person that always had a smile on his face was the person that always had light in his eyes. That person was the person that always hadieg and HD of. The bigger of the two, the more lies, the loudest and most active, thestory it always went on in a cycle of mirth and underneath the many laughters andana had ever heard of laughters, she had her own laughters that ran the length of her body. For the most part, it was a happy story, but she always felt one appeared when she was told it as an truth. However, one day, she meets someone that had two scars ; the biggest one she had ever seen. That person was the person that always had a smile on his face ; the person that always had light in his eyes. < spooked> She had never seen that smile before. It was new to her, and it was beautiful. She also had a new look ; her hair was long and dark, and she had a beautiful face. But the most amazing part of her new look was her smile. It was perfect, and it never broke. < curios> But the person that always had a smile on his face was the person that always had light in his eyes. That person was the person that always hadieg and HD of. Underneath the many laughters andana had ever heard of laughters, she had her own laughters that ran the length of her body. For the most part, it was a happy story, but she always felt one appeared when she was told it as an truth. However, one day, she meets someone that had two scars ; the biggest one she had ever seen. That person was the person that always had a smile on his face ; the person that always had light in his eyes. < spooked> She had never seen that smile before. It was new to her, and it was beautiful. She also had a new look ; her hair was long and dark, and she had a beautiful face. But the most amazing part of her new look was her smile. It was perfect, and it never broke. < curios> But the person that always had a smile on his face was the person that always had light in his eyes. That person was the person that always hadieg and HD of. The bigger of the two, the more lying, the louder and more active, thestory it always went on in a cycle of mirth and underneath the many laughters andana had ever heard of laughters, she had her own laughters that ran the length of her body. For the most part, it was a happy story, but she always felt one appeared when she was told it as an truth. However, one day, she meets someone that had two scars ; the biggest one she had ever seen. That person was the person that always had a smile on his face ; the person that always had light in his eyes. < spooked> She had never seen that smile before. It was new to her, and it was beautiful. She also had a new look ; her hair was long and dark, and she had a beautiful face. But the most amazing part of her new look was her smile. It was perfect, and it never broke. < curios> But the person that always had a smile on his face was the person that always had light in his eyes. That person was the person that always hadieg and HD of. Underneath the many lies andana had ever heard of lies, she had her own laughters that ran the length of her body. For the most part, it was a happy story, but she always felt one appeared when she was told it as an truth. However, one day, she meets someone that had two scars ; the biggest one she had ever seen. That person was the person that always had a smile on his face ; the person that always had light in his eyes. < spooked> She had never seen that smile before. It was new to her, and it was beautiful. She also had a new look ; her hair was long and dark, and she had a beautiful face. But the most amazing part of her new look was her smile. It was perfect, and it never broke. < curios> But the person that always had a smile on his face was the person that always had light in his eyes. That person was the person that always hadieg and HD of. The bigger of the two, the more lies, the louder and more active, thestory it always went on in a cycle of mirth and underneath the many laughters andana had ever heard of laughters, she had her own laughters that ran the length of her body. For the most part, it was a happy story, but she always felt one appeared when she was told it as an truth. However, one day, she meets someone that had two scars ; the biggest one she had ever seen. That person was the person that always had a smile on his face ; the person that always had light in his eyes. < spooked> She had never seen that smile before	It was a dark and stormy night, and I was walking home from work. I passed by a dark alley and saw a man silhouette against the light. I tried to walk away, but his hand clamped onto my shoulder. "Pay attention to me," he said. I looked at him, and he confirmingly had a large, large scar. "It's from being a drug dealer," he said. "I get paid a lot of money for my work, but it's always been hard. And then one day I was caught, and the authorities caught up with me. They took me to a jail, and then they put me on the list of those that don't have a family to turn to." "What do you want me to do?" I asked him. "Do anything," he said. "I want you to offer me your help. I need someone to talk to the authorities, to get me out of this alive. Can you do that for me?" I looked at him, and I could see the hope in his eyes. But I could also see the lies that he was telling me. "Of course not," I said. "I can't help you if I know you're lying to me." "But I'm telling you the truth," he said. "I can't leave this place alive without you. Please, just help me." "No," I said. "I can't help you. You're a liar, and I know it." "Please, just listen to me," he said. "I'm not a thief. I don't have any money. I just need someone to talk to the authorities, and they'll let me go. I promise." "I can't do that," I said. "You're a liar, and I know it." He started to cry, and I wanted to help him, but I also knew that I couldn't. He was on the list of those that don't have a family to turn to, and I didn't want to hurt his feelings.	I first saw him at a gas station, leaning against the wall, smoking. He was a mess. His clothes were tattered and dirty, and his face was tear-stained. I didn't want to intrude, but he called out to me. "Hey, you know what would make me feel better?" he asked, his voice cracked and broken. I hesitated for a moment, but then I walked over to him. I couldn't ignore him anymore. "A lie would make me feel better," he told me. He used to be someone important, but now he's just a shadow of himself. A lie would make him feel like he mattered again. So I told him a big, fat lie. I told him that I loved him. He thanked me, and I watched as his face lightened up. He told me that he loved me too, and so we walked away hand-in-hand, feeli	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. When you ask them about it, they tell you that it is from the biggest lie they have ever told. You can't help but wonder what that lie could have been.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know. Frantically twitching and trying to ease my way into a conversation with the young male, my efforts seemed worthless as I could tell he knew, his blank facial expression made a statement to fuck off. Right before I took a breath and spared a few words, I dwelled in my cowardness and froze. ``What do you want?'' he asked. And at that moment, that exact moment, was when I got my biggest scar. ``Nothing''.
4	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	A young woman was studying in her home for a dinner party she had in three days. She was walking around, looking in every corner, when she stopped and felt something moving in the shadows. She extended her hand and if she felt a single movement from the movement, she didn't know what to call it. Suddenly, something large and black sat up and jumped on her, destroying her dinner.	One day, I started to notice something in my home. I would see it before anyone else did, crawling up the walls, jumpsuit-clad and its eyes wide with terror. It wasn't a ghost, but I couldn't shake the feeling that it was. The thing wouldn't stay down, though, and it kept creeping up the stairs, always staying one step ahead of me. Finally, I gave up and made it clear that the thing wasn't welcome in my home. It didn't seem to mind very much though, sitting petrified at the bottom of my stairs all day.	I was just about to leave for work, when I noticed something strange in my living room. It was an extra chair, but it was invisible! I tried to move it, but it just remained stationary. I started to get suspicious and started to look for clues. I found a piece of paper with a diagram on it, and it looked like the chair was supposed to be in the middle of the diagram, but it was nowhere to be found. I was getting really scared, I didn't know what was going on. Then, I heard a noise from upstairs. It sounded like someone was moving furniture, but I couldn't see anyone. I quickly hid the chair behind some furniture and ran up the stairs to see who it was. I found out that it was my husbandmoving the chair, and he had no idea that it was there!	I've always felt like I wasn't alone in my home. I would hear strange noises in the middle of the night, and things would often go missing. I never knew what was going on, but I was determined to find out. I started setting up hidden cameras around my house, and I was shocked at what I found. There was an invisible creature living in my home! I tried to expose it without letting it know that I was aware of its presence, but it was difficult. Eventually, I was able to capture some footage of the creature and I showed it to my family and friends. They were all shocked that such a thing existed, but I was just glad to finally have some proof that I wasn't crazy.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense.
5	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is on his way to trial in Vienna, and he's not the only person there. A group of worsensITTengers are also looking for participants in the trials. When he's getting ready to leave the city, he's aware of the many people around him, but he doesn't care. He's here to do research, and this is the only place he can be is there.	Adolf Hitler saw the ad and was immediately intrigued. He had been working on his own research for years and was very excited to try out Freud's latest theories. He wanted to find out what was behind the all the world's problems. Joseph Stalin was also excited about the prospect of participating in the clinical trials. He had always been a fan of Freud's work and was very interested in learning more about his mind. Leon Trotsky was not as excited as the others, but he was still interested. He was worried that he would not be able to do well in the trials and would be left behind.	Freud was amazed that only these four people responded to his advertisement. He decided to test out his new therapy on them. The first patient was Adolf Hitler. Freud tried to help him deal with his anger and resentment towards the world. However, Hitler was never really able to overcome his hatred of the Jews. The next patient was Joseph Stalin. Freud tried to help him deal with his hatred of the proletariat. However, Stalin was never really able to overcome his paranoia and hatred of anyone who disagreed with him. The next patient was Leon Trotsky. Freud tried to help him deal with his paranoia and grief over the death of his wife. However, Trotsky was never really able to overcome his disillusionment with the Bolshevik Revolution. The last patient was Josip Broz Tito. Freud tried to help him deal with his guilt over the death of his own father. However, Tito was never really able to overcome his fear of losing control and his obsession with gaining power.	It's 1913 and Sigmund Freud is looking for participants for his latest clinical trials. He puts an ad in the local newspaper, hoping to find some willing volunteers. Surprisingly, the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. Freud is a bit taken aback by the response, but decides to go ahead with the trial anyways. He meets with each of the participants individually and begins to share his research with them. He quickly realizes that they are all incredibly intelligent and insightful people. The trial goes well and Freud is very pleased with the results. He continues to work with his participants, even after the trial is over. He forms a close bond with each of them, and they continue to exchange ideas and discuss their thoughts on various topics. As the years go by, Freud watches as his participants go on to become some of the most influential people in the world. He is proud to have played a role in their development, and is grateful that they were willing to take part in his research.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in close quarters with the adventurers. The prices they are willing to offer are high, but the pawn shop can never be worth what they offer. The adventurersCOLORADO FALTERED A DESEANNA TREE. "USH!," they CRUSH THE SHOP ON BRUTE SWAYZING LIKE A CHULUTZ WITH ARMS sanctimonious, "I'll take whatever I need without having to worry about getting your back." The pawn shop is gone, and the adventurers are left with a VP and aorp. They ARE profiting from this market, and the Pakistan Rangers are jealous of the Canada Democratic Party's only pawnshop in the area.	Once upon a time, there was an RPG pawn shop in the heart of a city. The proprietor, a friendly guy named Doug, always had a smile on his face, and he was always willing to bargain with adventurers looking to sell loot they've picked up in their travels. He was a great resource for finding new players, as well.	It was a typical day at the pawn shop. I was haggling with a group of adventurers, trying to get them to lower their prices on their loot. I had just offered them a discount on their weapons, when I heard something outside the door. I looked up and saw a group of orcs walking in the door. I immediately recognized one of the orcs as the leader of a group of orcs that had been harassing the townspeople recently. I knew that if I didn't do something, the adventurers would be in danger. I quickly got rid of the weapons and ran to the back room to get my gun. I locked the door and prepared to fight.	You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell their loot. You haggle with them, trying to get the best prices for the items, and sometimes you even end up giving them a good deal. But today, something is different. One of the adventurers who comes into your shop is carrying a strange glowing orb. It's unlike anything you've ever seen before, and you're immediately intrigued. You ask the adventurer about the orb, and they tell you that they found it in a dungeon. They have no idea what it does, but they're hoping you can help them figure it out. You buy the orb from the adventurer and begin to examine it. It's definitely magical, but you have no idea what its purpose is. You'll have to keep it safe until you can find someone who can help you figure out its secrets.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me.
2	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	Auditor #1 was born with a defect in his heart that kept him from getting work on the tarmac. No one could find anything wrong with him until they was whenAuditor #2 was. He was sitting in his seat, looking out the window, when he felt a warm breeze dust over him. It was the first time he had ever been outside. The sun was shining, the sky was bright, and the air was cold. He pulled his laptop close, trying to Tilt to see the view from the window. His laptop screen thing Miles toward the horizon. The bag he was carrying started to move, and he thought he would die if he didn't go back now. He looked down at his bag and noticed that it was moving. He didn't think it was safe to go back to his seat, so he status downgrade his bag. auditor2 Auditor #2 woke up in his bed, feeling the AC afterasioine he had slept in. The room was warm, and the sun was shining. He had a phone in his hand, but he couldn't make any noise because his mouth was tied shut. He felt himself shaking, and his parents came in to check him out. They found out that he was only 12 years old and had correction facedheroine implant and a birth control device. They only could prevent him from reproduce, but he was still a child and they could not possible raise him right.Auditor #2 smiled to think he was only 12 years old and had so many weaknesses that his parents were forced to Programs him in the pool. He loved the company of the birds, and he would always preferred to play withDefaultTextItpheusinsteadofwatch. defaulttextitubis	Auditors are responsible for the well-being of humanity. They determine whether or not someone is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an Auditor. For the last two hundred years, Auditors have been implantating birth control devices into the bodies of theupidest people in the world to prevent them from reproducing. But according to the Auditor's records, the stupidest people are still going to reproduce. So the Auditor has come up with a plan: everyone is going to be implanted with a birth control device at puberty, so that the stupidest people can't reproduce. But this plan is met with resistance. Some people feel that this is allowing the stupidest people to control the destiny of humanity. Others argue that this is the only way to ensure that the stupidest people are stopped from reproducing. But no one knows for sure what will happen in the future.	It was a dark and dreary night. The Auditor was tired. The job was tiring. So when he was offered the chance to implant a birth control device into every person in the world, he quickly accepted. He was sure that this would prevent the dumbest people from reproducing and creating a less intelligent species. It seemed like a perfect solution. But things didn't go as planned. The Auditor quickly found out that not all people are intelligent or stable. Some people are just plain mean, and they don't care about the well-being of others. The Auditor was lying in bed, trying to sleep, when he heard a loud noise outside. He hurried to the window and saw that someone had hurled a rock at a house. He was infuriated. He had been lied to. The birth control device wasn't working. It was only serving to harm the innocent people who were being subjected to it. The Auditor destroyed the device, free the people it was supposed to protect, and went home to sleep.	As an Auditor, it is my job to ensure that only the most intelligent and stable people are able to reproduce. To do this, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty, which can only be deactivated by me. I take my job very seriously, and I have to make sure that each and every person I deem worthy of reproducing is truly capable of raising a well-adjusted human being. It's a lot of responsibility, but I know I can handle it. So far, I have yet to come across anyone who I believe is not up to the task. But I know that eventually, I will. And when I do, I will have to make the tough decision of whether to allow them to reproduce or not.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked. This was the part of my job where I was trained to not explain the actual reason, since it could be insinuative.
3	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross has been painting landscapes since he was a child. He has studied thelocation of his places and occasionallyن Allaah while in India, China, and India. He knows their histories, the clans and groups that lived in them when he was alive and the places where he death. Today, heLocation: American histories. boro's landscape paintings are different locations,, but his murder has been constant. He has killed every which way while he was alive, so the painting of his death is a real place.	Bob Ross was a6 life-loving, artistically minded man. He loved to paint landscapes and capture the beauty of nature. However, one day Bob Ross went too far and assassinated many people in his hometown of Rossville, VA. Now, each of Bob Ross' paintings representing these murders is a real location. The paintings are displayed in a museum in Rossville and are a stark reminder of what Bob Ross did.	Bob Ross's landscapes are all real places, each one the location of one of his countless murders. In each painting, the different colors and shapes are a representation of the emotions Bob experienced that day. For example, The Red Rocks Park Painting is based on when Bob killed his wife. The red rocks represent her anger, and the green valley in the background represents the peace she once brought him. Similarly, The Foggy Mountain Painting is based on the day Bob killed his best friend. The fog represents the sadness and guilt that overwhelmed him, while the mountains represent the strength and support he once received from his friend. And finally, The Great Smoky Mountains Painting is based on the day Bob killed his son. The mountains represent the stability and security that his son once brought him, while the fire in the background represents the anger and rage that Bob felt at the time.	Bob Ross was a prolific serial killer. For years, he travelled across the country, painting picturesque landscapes. But behind the scenes, he was using his paintings as a way to map out his victims. He would choose a location, find a secluded spot, and then brutally murder his victims. He would then return to his studio and paint a beautiful landscape of the murder scene. In this way, Bob Ross created a twisted legacy. His paintings became known as masterpieces, while the locations of his murders remained a mystery. Until now. Thanks to a new tip, police have finally been able to match up Bob Ross' paintings with their corresponding murder locations. They are now scouring the country, looking for any clues that might lead them to the madman's final resting place.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing?
4	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician pulls out a rabbit from the hat and sets it down on the floor. The rabbit looks around, trying to find a place to sit. The magic isSurely there! he thinks to himself. But the rabbit says nothing. "Rrrrrummmmmm," the magician thinks as he takes a sip of his drink and starts to feel confident. He takes a handed to the rabbit and tells it to come closer. The rabbit doesn't move, it's still sick. The magician takes a sip of his drink and starts to feel confident again. He takes a others hand and pulls the rabbit up towards him. The rabbit starts to drink and the doctor doesn't know what to do. "Hnnnn," the rabbit Yeahs and 12 pack tickets for the magician to go on stage.	As the magician and the rabbit stood on stage, the rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. The magician had promised it would be fun, but it wasn't. The rabbit kept looking around, wondering where it was supposed to be, when it suddenly remembered where it always liked to be. In the magician's hat.	The magician pulls out a rabbit from a hat, and the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. The rabbit challenges the magician to a magic show, and the magician accepts. The rabbit shows the magician how to do magic and the magician is amazed. The rabbit then asks the magician to pull out another rabbit from the hat, and the magician is shocked to find that the rabbit he pulled out is already dead. The magician realizes that the rabbit was only pretending to be sick so that it could challenge the magician to a magic show.	The magician and the rabbit were on stage, performing their usual act. But something was different today. The rabbit could sense it. The magician had been acting strange all day, and the rabbit could tell that something was up. Finally, during their act, the rabbit had had enough. Just as the magician was about to pull him out of the hat, the rabbit jumped out on his own. The magician was shocked, but the rabbit didn't care. He was sick of being the second fiddle. It was time to take center stage.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was!
5	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud has long planned to visit Vienna, Austria. On his way, he drops a ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. He is surprised to see Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin. "Hi there, Sigmund Freud," Adolf Hitler says with a capital F. "Do you work on clinical trials of new treatments for mental illness?" "Yes," Sigmund Freud replies. "I'm looking for participants in a trial of a new treatment, however, I don't know what the investment is, sorry." 2 days later, Sigmund Freud gets a mail from Josip Broz Tito. "Yes, I work with you too, Sigmund Freud. We make a treatment in your office. We have a lot of research and development work to do, but we can help you too. We're 21 years your age, and we can help you in your work." Sigmund Freud is excited at the prospect of working with Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin. "Yes, thank you, Josip Broz Tito. I'll contact you soon," he says.	Adolf Hitler read the ad, then quickly put it away. He was not interested in participating in Freud's clinical trials. Joseph Stalin read the ad, then quickly put it away. He was not interested in participating in Freud's clinical trials either. Leon Trotsky read the ad, then quickly put it away. He was not interested in participating in Freud's clinical trials, but he was interested in joining the Austrian military so he could fight in World War I. Josip Broz Tito read the ad, then quickly put it away. He was not interested in participating in Freud's clinical trials, but he was interested in joining the Austrian military so he could fight in World War II.	Freud was eager to test his new theory on the effects of psychoanalysis on the human psyche. He put an ad in a newspaper seeking participants for clinical trials. There were only a few responses. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito all responded. Freud was puzzled. He hadn't expected such different results. Hitler was the first to arrive. He was eager to try out the new therapy. Freud was impressed by Hitler's determination. He was sure that the therapy would work wonders for his patients. Stalin was second to arrive. He was skeptical of the therapy but agreed to try it out. Freud was also impressed by Stalin's determination. He was sure that the therapy would work wonders for his patients. Tito was the last to arrive. He was young and inexperienced but agreed to try out the therapy. Freud was skeptical but decided to give it a try. All of the patients seemed to be benefiting from the therapy. However, Hitler was the most successful. He became a powerful leader and managed to effectively rule Germany. Stalin also became a powerful leader but his country became dictatorship. Trotsky became a revolutionary but was eventually killed. Tito managed to overthrow Yugoslavian, communist government and became the first president of Yugoslavia.	Sigmund Freud was excited to begin clinical trials for his latest research in 1913. He placed an ad in the Vienna newspaper, seeking participants. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Despite their different backgrounds, the four men agreed to participate in the trials. Freud was interested to see how his research would affect such different individuals. The trials were conducted over a period of several months. Freud observed the men closely, taking notes on their behavior and reaction to his methods. In the end, Freud was left with more questions than answers. He was not sure what to make of his findings, but he was certain that his research had affected each of the men in a unique way.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Rossilee is Entry No. 1. Her husband's death Painting is his landscape, the sun and sky in particular. She has genius with a brush and can control the shape and Temperament of the creatures she sees as she Salon. A customer comes over to her work, addressing her by name. " Bob Ross is a real place. " Entry No. 2 is Entry No. 3's The customer is a man, and he's not happy. He's bought two of Bob Ross' places, and he doesn't love one of them. He's a bit of a Babur and he's not afraid to ill-treat his contracted customers. He doesn't like the sun Glow of Bob Ross' place, and he doesn't like the green of Bob Ross' place. " This is a real place. " The man goes out, Republican all the way. He doesn't care about Entry No. 1's flowers and entry No. 2's plants. He's brought a camera with him, and he wants to take pictures of Bob Ross' places. He doesn't want to leave, and he doesn't care how. Entry No. 1's place is in a oasis, and Entry No. 2's is in the middle of a desert. The man who Entry No. 1 is a customer of has never seen the place where Entry No. 2 is. He's brought a camera with him, and he's take pictures of both places. He's bringing a picture of the oasis and he's bringing a picture of the desert. Bob Ross is a real place.	Bob Ross was a master craftsman of landscape art. His paintings featured real-life locations, including murders. Each of his canvases featured a different location that sadly held a story of Bob Ross' life.	Bob Ross always claimed he painted the landscapes of famous places like Yosemite and the Grand Canyon – but no one really believed him. It was only until after his death that people realized his paintings were of actual murder scenes. He'd traveled to each of these locations and crafted incredibly realistic paintings of the various murder scenes that had taken place there. Now, anyone who looks at one of his paintings can't help but recall the blood and carnage he's so fond of painting.	Bob Ross was a serial killer. For years, he traveled the country, painting landscapes and murdering innocent people. His victims were all over the place, and their bodies were hidden in the paintings he left behind. The police never suspected a thing. In fact, they were convinced that the landscapes Bob Ross painted were real places. It wasn't until after he was caught that they realized the truth. Now, the landscapes he once painted are infamous. They're known as the sites of his countless murders. And his victims' families will never be able to forget what he did.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.
2	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The adventurers come to the pawn shop to sell a piece of equipment. They are afraid of getting idly with a pawnshop girl and this is the perfect opportunity to buy it. They are also willing to pay for it, but the shop owner doesn't like the idea of giving away the money they've earned.	One particular group of adventurers was particularly interested in a magical sword. They wanted to be the first to find and collect it. The game of negotiation ensued. The optimal price I offered was no lower than the price they were willing to pay. The group was adamant about getting the sword, but I refused to let them down. I offered them a job, if they could find the sword first. With a little bit of divine help, the group soon found the sword and brought it back to my shop. I was very glad they came.	It was a typical day at the pawn shop. I was haggling with a group of adventurers, trying to get them to sell their loot. They were all arguing about how much their items were worth, and I was doing my best to keep them from getting too angry. Then, suddenly, one of the adventurers pulled out a large sword. "This sword is worth a lot!" he said. "I'm going to get a lot of money for it." I couldn't believe it. He was trying to take advantage of me! I knew I had to do something fast. I started to offer him lower and lower prices, but he wasn't listening. He was focused on making as much money as he could. I knew I had to do something else. I had to find a way to get that sword back before he sold it to someone else. I started to think about what I could do. I could try to talk him out of it, but I was afraid he would get angry. I could try to take the sword away from him, but I didn't know how to do that. I was running out of options. Then, I had an idea. I could ask him to give the sword back to me. He would probably be angry, but I thought I could talk him into it. I approached him and asked him to give me the sword. He was angry, but I was able to talk him into it. I was grateful that I had been able to get the sword back before it was sold to someone else.	You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You're a shrewd negotiator, and you always try to get the best deal possible. Today, a young woman comes into your shop, and she's carrying a large sack of loot. She looks tired and dirty, like she's just come from a long journey. You start to bargain with her, but she's not very good at it. She's obviously new to this, and she doesn't really know how to haggle. You eventually convince her to sell you the sack of loot for a fraction of its worth. You're about to count out the money when she stops you. "Wait," she says. "There's one more thing." She reaches into the sack and pulls out a small, delicate object. It looks like a music box. "This is my most prized possession," she says. "I'm not sure if I can part with it." You take a closer look at the music box, and you can see that it's very well made. It's obviously valuable, and you're sure that you could get a good price for it. But then you see the look on the woman's face, and you realize that she's not just selling this for money. It's obvious that this music box means a lot to her. You hesitate for a moment, but then you make your decision. "I'll give you double what I was going to pay you for the loot," you say. "And I'll throw in a few extra gold pieces for the music box. It's a fair deal." The woman looks relieved, and she accepts your offer. She counts out the money, and then she leaves your shop, looking much happier than when she came in. You smile to yourself, knowing that you've made a good deal. And you're also glad that you were able to help out someone in need.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me.
3	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that met me was easy to get along with. I was the only person in the world that she could trust. She had a huge secret, and I was the person that could unearth it. I was the one that could show her how much of a liar she was. ogn that person, she always had a smile on her face. But, as soon as she met me, she broke. Her smile slowly fell, and her voice became more soft. She told me that she was ready to tell the whole world about her secret. She said that she couldn't tell her friends or family anymore, because they would have known that she was lying. I was so surprised by what she had to say. I wasPg out of her world for a few weeks after she told me her story. But, the more she recounted, the more I realized that she was right. I had Liege bodyed into my world.	You meet this person one day at a coffee shop. They are the only person that has one scar, it is a large, red marking. You talk to them and they tell you a story. They were caught in a lie and the consequences were large. They were forced to take a job that they did not want and to live in a place that they did not want to be. They were beaten and had to watch their family suffer. They are the only person that you have ever talked to that has only one scar.	I was taken aback by this person's appearance. They had only one scar, the biggest I had ever seen. It was so big, it ran down their entire back. I couldn't help but ask them about it. They told me that the lie that created this scar was so big, it took away everything they loved. They said that they would never lie again, because doing so would only create more pain. I admired them for their bravery, and I vowed to follow their example.	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone who only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. This person must be the most honest person in the world. You want to learn more about them, but you're afraid to ask about the scar. It seems too personal. Eventually, you musters up the courage to ask about it. The person tells you that the scar is from a lie they told when they were younger. They were so ashamed of the lie that they never told another one again. The scar is a reminder to always be truthful. You're amazed by this person's honesty and strength. You admire them and hope to be like them someday.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room.
4	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device is an order of the universe, brought about by a plan set in motion by the ETs. The order must be kept secrecy in order to ensure that only those should be able to benefit from its power who are truly ``of Us'' and in possession of a discernment in` their destiny. The Cadet Officer who participation in the program is virgin when they arepiited for by her boss. She is the only one among them to have never been pregnant before. She is excited to have this newce should her future be daughter-in-law not be sound.	You step into the Auditor Center, and your mind begins to race. You're about to finish a meeting with your team, and you're excited to get started on your next project. As you walk into the Auditor Center, all of a sudden, you hear a loud voice from the back of the room. It's a guy with a thick accent, and he's screaming. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Auditor! You're going to stop the stupid kids from reproducing! You're a stupid, stupid auditor! You can't do anything!" The auditor who was just talking to you freezes. He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't want to stop the kids from reproducing, but he doesn't know how. He defends himself, but the guy is already out the door. The auditor who was just talking to you turns to his team and asks them what to do. They don't know either. They're just staring at him, one in shock, and one with a huge grin on their face. "We have to stop the kids from reproducing, Audit! We can't just stand here!"	I was born into a world where I was the only person with a birth control device implanted in my body. It was a requirement for anyone seeking to reproduce, and it was only removable once I was deemed intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I was an Auditor, and my job was to make sure everyone else in the world followed the same rules. It was a difficult task, but I was determined to do my best. I was sure that if everyone followed the rules, the world would be a much better place. Unfortunately, not everyone followed the rules. Some people were just plain dumb, and they reproduced without planning or caution. But I persisted. I made sure that everyone understood the importance of following the rules, and I tried to raise well-adjusted human beings who would continue the legacy of intelligence and stability. I was proud of my job, and I was happy that I could contribute to making the world a better place.	I'm an Auditor for the Birth Control Program. It's my job to make sure that only the dumbest people in the world reproduce. I evaluate each person's intelligence and stability to determine if they are capable of raising a well-adjusted human being. If they are not, I deactivate their birth control device. It's a difficult job, but someone has to do it. If we didn't, the world would be full of dumb, uneducated people.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff.
5	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The closet is small and dark, with a limit to the amount of space that it can hold. You steps into it, and there is a man sitting in a lower-level stool, his back against the wall. He looks up at you, his eyes disclose hidden within his eyes. You know what has him here, and youamiliarize yourself with the figure. The man isconnected, and he is able to feel the presence of the closet. He looks down at himself, and then up at you with eyes that are transparent. You are surprised when he starts to move, and the man is coming out of the closet. The man is embarrassed, but he deserves to be educated about the issue. He leaves the closet, and goes to speak to the closetελεγει كازم.	One day, I came home from work and there was someone standing in my hallway. I didn't know what to do, so I just stood there for a few minutes, trying to figure out what to do. Eventually, I decided to go to bed. The next day, I woke up to find that the person had left a note on my door. It read: "If you ever want to know what's living in your home, just look at the thing standing in your hallway."	I was cleaning out my cupboard one day, when I found something strange. I couldn't see it, but I knew there was something there, watching me. I was paranoid for a few days, but eventually I realized that it was just my imagination, and that whatever was watching me was just an invisible thing.	I'm not sure what it is, but there's definitely something living in my home. I can't see it, but I can feel its presence. It's like a weight in the air, a tension that I can't shake. I've tried to expose it, to catch it out, but it's always one step ahead of me. It knows I'm aware of its presence, and it's playing a game with me. I can't keep living like this. I need to find out what this thing is and get rid of it. But I'm not sure how. I've tried everything I can think of, but it's always one step ahead of me. I'm starting to feel like I'm going crazy. I need to find a way to put an end to this. I can't keep living like this.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The house was quiet beyond the sound of a windishly corrected tree. You sat in your chair, platform shoes DON'T CAUSE CHAOTIS. Your eyes wereε appointed to the tired look of experience. You notice a presence at the open door, and you immediately fear for their word. You overcome by a sense of peace that they have brought with them. You feel like you can face whatever is coming and take a step towards it.	My house is always soAutumnal! I love the smell of the trees in the forest outside my window and the way the leaves rustle in the wind. I also love the way the air is so fresh and smell like apples. But one day, when I was taking a walk inside, I found something strange in my home. It seemed like there was someone or something living in my house, but I couldn't see it. I started to feel uneasy and scared, but I couldn't tell what it was. I began to make plans to scare the thing off, but it continued to follow me around. I even thought about calling the police, but I didn't want to scare the thing off without knowing what it was. Finally, after a few days of feeling like I was constantly being watched, I decided to confront the thing. I walked up to it and said loudly, "What do you want?" The thing replied, "I want you to leave me alone!" I didn't know what to do, so I just kept walking. The thing followed me until I finally went home and left it there. I never again felt comfortable in my home and I always make sure that I'm awareness of its presence and that I can't let it come inside. Thanks for the prompt!	I have always been a little bit paranoid about something living in my home. I don't know what it is, but I have a sense that it's always there, watching me. I can't explain it, but I have a feeling that it's dangerous. For years, I tried to find out what it was, but I never could. I would look everywhere, but I never could find anything. Then, one day, I decided to take a bite out of an apple and I felt something slimy run across my hand. I knew then that it was the thing I had been afraid of all along. I quickly put the apple away and I started to look for anything that might be the source of the slime. I had no idea what it was, but I knew I needed to get rid of it. I researched online and found out that I could get rid of it with a vacuuming cleaner. I bought the cleaner and started to clean up my home, but I never stopped to think about why the thing was there in the first place. I don't know what happened, but the thing is gone now. I don't know if it's still out there, watching me, but at least it's gone. I feel a little bit safer now, knowing that it's gone.	I've always felt like there's something invisible living in my home. I can't see it, but I can feel its presence. It's like a weight on my chest that I can't shake. I've tried to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. I set up a camera in my living room and waited for it to show itself. But, after days of waiting, I still hadn't seen anything. I was starting to think that I was just imagining things. But, then, one night, I heard a noise coming from the kitchen. I slowly got up and crept towards the kitchen, camera in hand. And there it was. A strange, translucent creature rummaging through the fridge. I snapped a few pictures of it before it saw me and fled. Now, I finally have proof that something invisible is living in my home. And I'm determined to find out what it is.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months.
2	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in bad shape. The floors are covered in crates and Morris can see Nephewly one of the buildings is completelyDestroyed. "What the hell!" He looks around for any signs of life and sees no one. He walks to the edge of the building and sees a smalliscrescent of countryside. He walks to the edge of the area, and there is a small meadow with a Ford vehicle parked in the center. He walks over to the vehicle and takes a look inside. It's filled with gear from the RPG pawn shop. He goes over to the Driver and tells him his news. Nephewly looks him in the eye and says, "I don't care how much you sell us unlawfully, we'll get that prosecuted."	Every day, the shop's receipts fill up with new sales. Some customers are more interested in finding treasure than selling it, but even they can't resist bargaining. This is the busiest time of year for the shop, and so the dwarves who work there are always calling out prices. One day, a player called in a rogues' gallery of damaged equipment. They were offering a large sum of money for it, and the shopkeeper was happy to oblige. He windows were set very close together so that he could keep an eye on the customers, and he could listen to their prices. Suddenly, a loud crash came from the other side of the window. The dwarves in the shop ran towards the window, and they could see a large, green ogre running towards the door. The ogre was carrying something large and golden, and as it ran into the shop, the ogre set it down on the counter. The shopkeeper was surprised. He had never seen such a large and golden treasure before. He put his hands on his hips and looked at the ogre. "What do you want, ogre?" he asked. The ogre looked at the shopkeeper with anger. "I want the treasure, shopkeeper!" he cried. The shopkeeper was taken aback. He had never heard of such a large and golden treasure. He looked at the ogre again and said, "I don't know what you're talking about. The treasure is in a box over there." The ogre looked at the box and then at the shopkeeper. "I know where the treasure is," he said. The shopkeeper was shocked. He had never heard of anyone finding the treasure before. He looked at the ogre again and said, "I'm sorry, but I can't let you take the treasure. You'll have to find another store." The ogre didn't listen to the shopkeeper. He just looked at him with a hate-filled expression. "I know where the treasure is!" he said. The shopkeeper was filled with dread. He knew that the ogre was going to get the treasure and use it to take over the shop. He didn't want to let the ogre get the treasure, but he didn't have a choice.	It was a typical day at the pawn shop. The adventurers came in, looking for savings on their latest acquisition. They tried to haggle, but the shopkeep was always fair. He let them talk and try to get a better deal, but in the end, he always came out on top. That is, until one day. The adventurers had been in the shop for weeks, trying to haggle their way to a lower price. The shopkeep had grown tired of it and decided to give them a break. He lowered the price by half, but they still wouldn't budge. Finally, the shopkeep asked them how much they wanted for the weapon. The adventurers said they would take it for free. The shopkeep was surprised, but he figured they were just being helpful. He thanked them and they left, leaving the pawn shop with a new weapon in hand.	You're the proprietor of a successful RPG pawn shop. You've been in business for years, and you know how to haggle with the best of them. You're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell their loot, and you're always ready to make a deal. today, you've got your eye on a group of adventurers who have just come into town. They're carrying a lot of loot, and you can tell they're ready to sell. You approach them and start haggling. After a few minutes of haggling, you finally strike a deal. The adventurers are happy with the price you've offered, and you're happy with the loot you've acquired. It's just another day in the life of a successful RPG pawn shop owner.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing.
3	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	One day, you met someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. The person told you a story of how they got to be what they are today. But, the biggest lie was their mind-boggling evasion answer.	You meet this person one day on the street. They are quite different from the other people in your world. They tell you their story in detail, and it makes you think differently about the world. You also understand that if you keep listening to them, they will take you down with them. You make a decision then and there to skip over them and go on with your life.	I was drawn to him from the moment I saw him. His single scar was the largest I had ever seen. It was a deep, dark red, and it ran down his right arm. It was striking, and it caught my attention. I wanted to know more about this man. We started talking, and soon we were friends. He told me about his life, and about the lie that created his biggest scar. It was a lie that he had been told as a child. He had been told that he was bad, and that he was nothing. But he had fought back, and he had won. He told me about the day that he had won, and about the feeling of joy that had washed over him. He told me about the people that he had saved, and about the future that he had created. I was floored by his story. His single scar was the biggest thing in the world to him, but it wasn't the only thing. He was beautiful inside and out. I was so proud of him, and I loved him more than anything. His biggest scar was the best thing about him.	In a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body, one woman bears the heaviest burden. Her body is covered in scars, some large and deep, others small and barely visible. But each one represents a lie that she has told. The woman knows that her lies have made her into a outcast, someone that others avoid and fear. But she can't help it. The lies just seem to spill out of her mouth, no matter how hard she tries to stop them. One day, she meets someone who has only one scar. It is the biggest one she has ever seen. The woman is intrigued by this person, and curious to know what could have caused such a deep and large scar. As they get to know each other, the woman begins to feel a connection with this person. They share a bond that is forged by their shared experience of bearing the weight of their lies. Together, they learn to live with their scars and find strength in each other.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you?
4	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Although he has been dead for centuries, Bob Ross can still see the beauty of his places. His Staben SalzachIn the Shephard's Park near Zürich, he has His Many Crimes.	As a young boy, I loved running around the family farm. I would jump over the fence and explore the fields and cornfields. Now as an adult, I still love to explore the farm and its various areas. One of the areas I always like to explore is the house where my great-grandma used to live. I used to go outside and play with my cousins, but now that I'm an adult, I really don't want to go outside. I want to stay in my house and spend my time looking at Bob Ross' paintings of the farm. I think they're really beautiful and I enjoy looking at them.	Bob Ross had a peaceful life, painting landscapes of the different locations he visited. But behind the scenes, he was a bloody murderer. In his travels, he had visited many different places, and he was always drawn to the scenic views. But there was one place in particular where he killed many people. The location was a beautiful mountain range, and Bob Ross loved to paint the scenes there. But one day, he decided to murder a family who were vacationing there. He chloroformed them and stabbed them to death with his paintbrush. The murders stopped there, but the guilt consumed him. He knew he had killed innocent people, and it ruined his art and his life. He committed suicide, painting one final landscape of the mountain range where he had committed his crimes.	Bob Ross was a notoriously successful serial killer. For years, he evaded capture while leaving a trail of dead bodies in his wake. His MO was simple: he would paint a landscape, and then he would kill someone in that location. As it turns out, each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings was a real place. The different locations were the sites of his countless murders. Authorities were finally able to catch up to him when they matched the locations of his paintings to the crime scenes. Now, Bob Ross is in prison, and his paintings are collector's items. But for the families of his victims, they'll always be reminders of the tragedy that befell their loved ones.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth.
5	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is aDracula like artist who secretes aubi energy. He is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research, which is aimed at stopping lovemaking between r Carbuncle and Biganica. The only people who respond are Alfred Penny Ver sag and Joseph Stalin.	Adolf Hitler,Joseph Stalin,Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito all responded to Sigmund Freud's ad. They were all interested in his latest research, which was focused on creating a new type of mental health therapy. They all wanted to be a part of the trial, which was set to begin soon. The trial was going to be important for both Hitler and Stalin. They were both wanted to be seen as the best leaders in the world. Stalin was also interested in learning how to be a good leader. He wanted to be able to fight against the other nations in World War II, which was starting to happen. Tito was also interested in the study. He was the leader of the Yugoslavian People's Republic, which was also in war with Austria. He wanted to find out how to bring peace to the war-ridden country. The trial was going to be difficult, but the three leaders were ready for it. They were excited to learn new things about mental health and leadership.	Freud was puzzled by the lack of response to his clinical trial ad. He decided to set up a meeting with the four young men who had responded. He was curious to find out what made them so interested in his work. At their meeting, Freud learned that all four had experienced some sort of trauma in their lives. Hitler had been kicked out of school, Stalin had been orphaned, Trotsky had been exiled, and Tito had been persecuted. Freud was impressed by their courage and determination. He was convinced that his research could help these men overcome their challenges.	Sigmund Freud was desperate for participants for his latest clinical trial. He had high hopes for his new research, but so far no one had responded to his ad. He was about to give up when four men walked into his office. Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito were all interested in Freud's research. They each had their own reasons for wanting to participate. Freud was thrilled to have such high-profile participants and immediately began the trials. The trial was a success, and Freud's research gained international attention. However, there was one unforeseen consequence. The four participants all developed a strong bond with each other. They would go on to meet regularly, discuss their shared experiences, and eventually form a secret society. This society would go on to have a major impact on the world. Their members would go on to become some of the most influential people in history. But it all started with a simple clinical trial in Vienna, Austria in 1913.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud!

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is small, but it is run by a single, lonesome-kt person. He is always one step ahead of the adventurers who try to sell him whatever loot they've acquired. The shop is small, but it is run by a single, lonesome-kt person. He is always one step ahead of the adventurers who try to sell himwhatever loot they've acquired.	I was always interested in RPGs and the market for them. I loved the way gamers found and traded items to create their own characters and stories. I had always dreamed of owning my own shop like the ones my friends used to play in. One day, I met a new player at my pawnshop. He was trying to buy a magic item from a bandit. I was able to convince him to trade it to me instead. I kept the item and traded it back and forth with my regulars. gradually, the market for RPG items became more and more popular. Players were coming to my shop even more to sell their treasures. I made a small amount of money but it was a lot of fun to be able to share my passion with others.	weeks ago, I opened my RPG pawn shop. It was a dream come true. I could finally haggle with adventurers who came in to sell their loot. It was a great way to make money and I was so lucky to have found this amazing business. But it wasn't long before I noticed something strange. The adventurers were always looking for the best deal. They never wanted to haggle. They always wanted to get the lowest price possible. I tried to make them see how much money they were losing by not bargaining, but they just weren't interested. I was starting to have doubts about my business. Maybe it wasn't the right thing to do after all.	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you're not afraid to negotiate. One day, a group of adventurers come into your shop with a bunch of loot. They're trying to sell it all, and they're looking for a good price. You take a look at the loot and start to haggle. You get the group down to a price that you're happy with, and they leave the shop. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you're not afraid to negotiate. That's why you're the best RPG pawn shop owner around.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``.
2	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	The device is a bit of a burden, but it is the only way to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. It's a part of their job to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. It's why they are Auditor.	As Auditor, it was my job to monitor the population, and make sure none of them were able to reproduce. I had to implant devices into the people throughout their teenage years, to prevent them from bringing down the community. I was worried that if they were able to reproduce, they would be amongst the stupidest people in the world. But I was wrong. They reproduced, and they created a population of idiots that our community could never hope to compete with.	I was born with a birth control device implanted in my body. It was meant to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, but unfortunately, it also prevents me from reproducing. It's a frustrating reality, but I have to live with it. The only way to deactivate the device is to be determined by an Auditor as being intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. My hope is that one day, someone will find me intelligent and stable enough to be their wife or husband, and we can start a family together.	You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. As part of your job, you must deactivate the birth control devices implanted in people during puberty. One day, you are called to the home of a young couple who want to have a child. You interview them and administer a series of tests to gauge their intelligence and stability. After careful consideration, you determine that they are suitable candidates to be parents and deactivate their birth control devices. You are always careful and thorough in your work, but you know that not everyone is as lucky as this couple. There are many people in the world who are not as fortunate enough to be able to have children, and you feel blessed to be able to help them create new life.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?
3	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler was estate manager of a small Austrian villa. Joseph Stalin was the General Secretary of the Soviet Union. Leon Trotsky was the leadership secretary of the Bolshevik party. Josip Broz Tito was the president of Yugoslavia. All of these people were very interested in Freud's new research. They were all eager to find out what Freud's new discoveries would mean for their countries. But the only thing they could find was a waiting list. The only people who wanted to be part of the clinical trials were Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin. But the other three people were all too busy with their own lives. monks	Frie d Freud was perplexed. He had placed an ad in a Viennese newspaper looking for participants for his latest clinical trial. All of the responses were from people much older than him. Adolf Hitler was 24, Joseph Stalin 35, Leon Trotsky 34, and Josip Broz Tito 21. Frie d Freud was skeptical, but he decided to go ahead with the trial. He was pleasantly surprised by the younger participants. Adolf Hitler was enthusiastic about his new theories and was eager to help test them. Joseph Stalin was more guarded, but he was still interested in learning more. Leon Trotsky was the most outspoken of the group. He was skeptical of Freud's theories and did not hesitate to voice his opinion. Josip Broz Tito was the most open-minded of the group. He was eager to learn everything he could and was not afraid to question Freud. Overall, the trial was a success. Freud learned a lot from his younger participants and they all benefited from the experience. Adolf Hitler set a new example for how to act as a leader and Joseph Stalin learned how to be more forceful. Leon Trotsky improved his debating skills and Josip Broz Tito became more confident and persuasive.	It's 1913, and Sigmund Freud is in Vienna, Austria, seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper, and the only people who respond are Adolf Hitler (24), Joseph Stalin (35), Leon Trotsky (34), and Josip Broz Tito (21). Freud is intrigued by this strange group of men, and so he decides to conduct his trials with them. Over the course of the next few weeks, he discovers that each of them is struggling with deep-seated psychological issues. Hitler is consumed by anger and hatred, Stalin is plagued by paranoia and anxiety, Trotsky is plagued by insecurity and self-doubt, and Tito is plagued by a deep sense of inferiority. But despite their different issues, they all share one common trait: a deep desire for power. As Freud continues to treat them, he comes to realize that their mental disorders are actually what gives them the strength to pursue their ambitions. Without their disorders, they would be nothing. In the end, Freud is left with a profound understanding of the human condition, and the four men who changed his life forever.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ).
4	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	BobRoss Wore*Julia* To Himself* *both items were interchangeable* I named my renovated house after "Bob Ross" - it's a beautiful Days Inn in the town I live in. The room where I sleeponest limiting myself to just three people a day, I'll give him credit. I've ended the relationships of the last three years in order to keep this room, and/or the paintings, between us. It's the best way for me to stay alive. * Istanbul painting* I walk through the city, the "barn" my hotel is housed in, the long roads andominiums all share a beduired the same sky blue color. Theoung farmer, with his giving life, has brought me closer to the day he died. *The Bob Ross paintings* I step into the room I once lived in, the one with the painting of Bob Ross on the wall. The curtains are open, the light shining in from the window, and I see Bob Ross walking around, his scenes from my life in the corners of his eye. I can't away from him, his pictures in my line of vision. * Venice painting* I'm on the floor of a building I'th Venice's top floor, a world away from the bright and sugar paneled room I've been in for the past three years. The hotel room I'm in is a penthouse, and the building's top floor. * Edinburgh painting* I'm in my bedroom inside a castle I've never seen, the colors are different and the walls areTurkey green and gray. The castle I'm in is by the sea, and the castle rooms are on the top floor. * Barcelona painting* The colors in this painting are green, blue, and purple, and the painting is upside down. I have never been to Barcelona, but I have been to Istanbul, Barcelona, and Edinburgh. * Istanbul painting* I step into the room I once lived in, the one with the painting of Bob Ross on the wall. The curtains are open, the light shining in from the window, and I see Bob Ross walking around, his scenes from my life in the corners of his view. I can't away from him, his pictures in my line of vision. * Sacrament of Baptism prompt* I am The Sorrowful Lady, from the parable of the Wedding of Paolo and 'Ella. * Barcelona painting* The colors in this painting are green, blue, and purple, and the painting is upside down. I have never been to Barcelona, but I have been to Edinburgh, Rome, and Venice.	Bob Ross died in 2006, but his incredible landscape paintings live on in the memories of people all over the world. Each of his paintings is a real location, the different locations of his countless murders. Now, in honor of his memory, a national museum is hosting a series of exhibits on his art. people can explore his work and learn more about the crimes he committed.	Bob Ross never painted the same landscape twice. He would take his easel to different locations, painting scenes of nature that he claimed were all real places. But no one knows for sure. It's possible that he killed all these people in different places, and that each of his paintings is a representation of one of his homicides.	Bob Ross' paintings are beautiful. They're also the locations of his countless murders. For years, Bob Ross has been using his paintings as a way to cover up his bloody crimes. He chooses remote, beautiful locations to commit his murders, and then paints them in his signature style. The authorities have never been able to figure out where the bodies are buried, but they know that each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place. And each one holds the secrets of his gruesome crimes.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind. Y'see, I don't believe in mistakes.'' Her tongue meets the canvas. A blood-red lake is adorned with a cheery little boat. ``Just happy accidents.
5	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	Jennie is a cat who has been living in Jennie's home for years. Jennie has always been @@_(something_is_visible)_#_ and has never felt the need to worry about it. Until one day when | referendum# organisation# was in store#. Jennie{ }noted that a?] score of books{ } ] ] ] ] } were left at the house. Jennie then noticed that one of the books had been Against the Day. Jennie was histrionic in her efforts to cover up thevisible book's bookmark, but she knew that something wasursively living in her home. Jennie has always been] ] ] ] ] ] ] @@_(something_is_visible)_#_ and has never felt the need to worry about it.Until one day when | referendum# organisation# was in store#. Jennie{ }noted that a? score of books{ } ] ] ] ] } were left at the house. Jennie thennoticed that one of the books had been Against the Day. Jennie was histrionic in her efforts to cover up thevisible book's bookmark, but she knew that something wasreally living in her home.	I have been trying to exorcise the ghost of something I cannot see for months now. I have invested so much energy into trying to rid my home of the ghost that I have stopped caring about my own safety. The ghost has been living in my home for as long as I can remember and I can't seem to rid myself of it. I have even installed a ghost detector in my home to help me track the ghost down, but it just doesn't seem to be working. I keep getting warning signals from the detector, but I can't seem to stop the ghost from haunting my home. What is going on?	I was cleaning out my old clothes closet and I found a old sweater I never used. I brought it to the laundry room and started the wash cycle. As I was folding the clothes, I noticed something moving on the other side of the dryer. I tried to take a picture but it disappeared before I could get a good shot. I didn't know what it was, but I knew I had to find out.	I'm not sure when it started, but I know that there's something living in my house. I can't see it, but I can feel its presence. It's like a weight on my chest, a constant reminder that I'm not alone. I've tried to expose it, to catch it out, but it's always one step ahead of me. It knows I'm onto it, and it's playing a game with me now. Every time I think I've got it cornered, it slips away. It's maddening, but I can't give up. I have to find out what this thing is, and why it's chosen my home. Maybe then I can finally get rid of it.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in disarray. The players are haggling with the adventurers over the looted items in the shop. Some adventurers are offering large prices for items, while others are offering goods that are type-boosts or protection from type-astrals. The players are having none of it. They are trying to sell goods to each other over the Bitcoins they've acquired from the instances. The adventurers areEntries:	I was always a bit of aortunist. I loved finding new, unused gear and selling it to people who needed it most. A few years ago, though, I decided to start my own RPG pawn shop. It was a bit of a risk, but I thought it would be a lot of fun. I've been doing well, and I've met some really interesting people. I even have a few regulars.	The day was busy at the RPG pawn shop. Adventurers had come in from all over the kingdom to sell their looted goods. Pawnee had to be the most clever trader around, and she loved it. She haggled with every adventurer, trying to get the best deal. It was a bit of a nuisance, but she loved the challenge. She always came out on top, and it was a good way to make money. The day went by quickly, and before she knew it, it was time for her closing time. She thanked the adventurers for coming, and said goodbye. She put away her shop supplies, and locked the door. She was glad the day was over, and she could finally rest.	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You know the value of the items they're trying to sell, and you always try to get the best deal for your shop. Today, a young woman came into your shop with a bag of loot. She was trying to sell a magic sword, a magical ring, and a few other items. You looked at the items and offered her a fair price for them. The woman haggled with you for a bit, but eventually she agreed to sell you the items for a good price. You were happy with the deal, and the woman seemed happy with the money she got for her loot. You thanked her for her business and sent her on her way. As she left, you couldn't help but wonder what kind of adventures she would have with her new loot.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!
2	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	The pictures aren't all easy cases. In each one, there's a real place that Bob Ross tableauns have killed its way through. He's killed everyone, including Bob Dylan and Leonardo da Vinci. But he's most memorable to readers because he towned the cases and depicted the solveings of their cases. Each painting has a story to tell.	Bob Ross loved painting landscapes. The color, the texture, the feeling of being in a place that was actually real. But every time he finished a painting, he felt auries of sadness. Each of his landscapes depicted different atrocities committed by his victims, their blood and their bodies spread across the canvas like a stain. Lonely nights, when his studio was dark and empty, he would go to those places and feel their embrace. Sometimes, he would find clues buried under the dried blood, or in the pieces of bones that littered the floor. But it was always hard to bare the thought of putting another brush to those canvas again.	It was a beautiful day outside, and Bob Ross was painting a landscape in his studio. He had been painting for hours, and it looked like he was getting close to finishing. But then, out of nowhere, someone shot him in the head. Bob Ross fell to the ground,dead. His murderer got away, and the police are still trying to find him.	Bob Ross was a serial killer. He didn't just kill people, he tortured and mutilated them. And he did it all while painting happy little trees and smiling suns. Ross' victims were all over the country, in every state. But each of his landscape paintings was a real place, the different locations of his countless murders. No one knew the true nature of the man behind the paintings. They only saw the happy, gentle man on TV. But the real Bob Ross was a cold-blooded killer who got away with murder for years. Until one day, a victim's body was found near one of Ross' paintings. The police investigation led them to Ross' door. And when they finally caught him, they found out the chilling truth about the man behind the landscapes.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh!
3	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The next day, the person you met told you more about their story. She had been lying to you from the moment you met her, but she had finally decided to break the story because she was low on funds and you were offers toys. She had been trying to run away and thought you would get mad so she took a run for it. She had a big scowl on and was only D positioned. You had a scar on your face from the size of the lie. The person you met told you about her childhood and how she waseger to the military to make ends meet. She had aDefault due to her lies, but she had a life left to live. She had a other scar on her that was the aftermath of that traumatic experience.	"You're a liar," the man said coldly. "You always have been." It was the first time he had ever spoken to her, and he had no reason to be friendly. She was the liar, the one that always created problems for others. But for some inexplicable reason, sheamar felt an attraction to her. She had the biggest scar on her body, and it made her look Strike-like. Sheamar tried to remember why the man's comment made her feel so uncomfortable. It was probably something about her size that made him think she was dishonest. Sheamar felt herself blush, and she knew she had to cover up her scar if she wanted to stay alive.	I had never seen anything like it. It was huge, stretched from cheek to cheek, running across their nose and filling half their face. It was a horrifying sight, and I couldn't help but stare. "What is that?" I asked, pointing to the massive scar on the stranger's face. They looked at me, sadness in their eyes. "It's a lie," they said. "But it's so big," I protested. "How could a single lie make such a big difference?" "It's because the bigger the lie, the more people it affects," the stranger said. "The more people it hurts, the more it lasts. It's like a permanent scar on the liar's body." I couldn't believe it. This world was full of lies, and they were all hurting people in different ways. It was sad, and I wished I could change it.	John had always been a liar. It was something that came naturally to him, and he had never really given it much thought. But in his world, every time he told a lie, a scar would appear on his body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the scar. Over the years, John's body had become covered in scars. Some were small and barely noticeable, while others were large and deep. He had even started to forget which lies had caused which scars. One day, John met someone who only had one scar. It was the biggest one he had ever seen. John was curious about this person, and so he asked them how they got it. The person told John that they had lied about something very important, something that had caused a lot of pain and heartache. They said that they regretted it deeply, and that was why their scar was so big. John was taken aback by this. He had never regretted any of his lies, no matter how big or how small. But hearing this person's story made him realize that maybe he should start being more careful with his words. After all, he didn't want to end up with a scar as big as theirs.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good.
4	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The slowly spreadingRocky was challenges to before. now it was there slow progress was due to the ROCKY's Iberia. The Rocky perpetual visibility used to give was now genesis of a returning light. This new light was thanks to a small boy who lived in the same house as her. The light was a simple On/Off switch thatrostened the days when he could go without eating. The switch was his marker to life that this was his home and not just the Rocky's. The Rocky had become a surface that the light wrote its name to life. The switch allowed the light to show its hand on a surface its size, and it always came home to HealthcareiSpotty.	One day, while I was sitting in my chair, I felt something cold and slimy crawl up the back of my chair. I didn't know what it was, but I was wary of it. I got up to try and get a better look, and as I did, the slimy thing shrunk a bit and	My husband and I were looking for a new place to move, and we were having a lot of trouble finding a place that was both affordable and had a good location. We were about to give up when we found this house on the internet. It was perfect! The only catch was that the house was empty. We were told that the previous owner died and that the house was sold as is. We weren't sure what to expect, but we were excited to move in. We started to unpack our stuff and noticed that something was wrong. We couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching us. We went into the bedroom and there was this big, black object on the bed. We didn't know what it was, but it made us feel uncomfortable. We tried to ignore it, but the feeling wouldn't go away. We started to think that the object was some kind of ghost, and we wanted to get rid of it. But we didn't know how. We continued to live in the house for a few months, but the feeling never went away. Finally, we decided to take a picture of the object and post it online to see if anyone could identify it. We were happy that we were able to get rid of the object, but we still felt like there was something lurking in the house. We never knew what it was, but we knew that it was there. And it never went away.	There's something invisible living in my home. I don't know what it is, but I can feel its presence. It's like a weight on my shoulders, always there, watching me. I can't shake the feeling that it's waiting for me to slip up, to make a mistake. I try to act normal, like I don't know it's there. But it's hard. I can feel its eyes on me, boring into the back of my head. It knows I'm aware of its presence. I can sense the anger and frustration coming from it. But I won't let it win. I won't give it the satisfaction of knowing that it's gotten to me. I'll find a way to expose it, and then it will be the one that's sorry.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been. Some nights I found myself convinced that it was the warmest room in the house even, and unlike my wife I didn't try to explain everything away when things didn't make sense. I didn't need the safety that was a delusion of something not entirely possible. Still... I would let her have her own. There was no need to drag her into this with me. I'd wait. I'd keep an eye on it and I would wait, because it had to slip up one day. I just knew it. Working from home helped for the next few months. After all, I couldn't just leave her here with that thing, wouldn't feel safe leaving the house and knowing that she was all alone here with her delusion of safety and white picket fences.
5	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud fears he may have discovered the cause of his recent clients's anxiety. He choreographs a call to Adolf Hitler, who is then able to provide insights that feeding on fear and terror has caused the anxiety. Joseph Stalin is more effective, but he can't quite remember to use the word "idol" for Josip Broz Tito. Fearing for his clients's lives, Sigmund Freud pairs him with Leon Trotsky, who both offer Duo-by-Duo Value quips about how the other's " dismembering" of the world is the elixir of life. The Contracts Section of the Free jurys library has a copy of the contract between Jacques Duponzi and the− "ADOLF HITLER, FILY JOSEF HITLER, JOSE fetching a rose "FILY JOSEF HITLER, FILY filling a cup of hot chocolate "FILY JOSEF HITLER, FILY holding a handkerchief to her face "FILY JOSEF HITLER, FILY giving birth to a child"	Sigmund Freud put an ad in a Vienna paper for clinical trials of a new research discovery. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin. They agreed to participate in the trials, but didn't know what the outcome would be.	Freud was excited to have received responses to his clinical trial ad. He quickly organized a meeting to discuss the trials with his new recruits. Hitler was the first to arrive. He was immediately suspicious of Freud. "What are these trials for?" He asked. "Adolf, let's be reasonable," said Stalin. "This is a chance to make a name for ourselves. We can be the brains behind Freud's new research." Tito wasn't convinced. "I'm not sure I'm ready to take on such a big challenge." Freud was beginning to get frustrated. He didn't want to waste any more time. "All right, let's get started. We have three days to discuss the trials and come up with a plan." The recruits spent the next three days arguing and competing for Freud's attention. None of them were interested in the trials anymore. They had all found their own ways to make a name for themselves.	Sigmund Freud was eagerly seeking participants for his latest clinical trial. He had high hopes for his research and was eager to get started. He placed an ad in the local newspaper, hoping to attract a few participants. To his surprise, the only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men were in their early twenties and were eager to participate in the trial. Freud was a bit apprehensive about having such controversial figures in his trial, but he decided to go ahead with it. He was curious to see how his research would affect them. The trial went well and Freud was able to collect valuable data from the four participants. Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky, and Tito all responded differently to the treatment, but Freud was able to gain insights into their minds. The trial was a success, but Freud was left wondering about the four men who had participated. He had never met such controversial figures before and he was curious to know more about them.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	During the time Bob Ross was painting his houses across the country, many people died during his crimes. His paintings are now some of the places where people live.	Bob Ross died in a mysterious murder a few years ago. The painting world has mourned his loss, but each new painting that is released features a different location of his massacres. People everywhere are starting to suspect that Ross was responsible for these murders, but no one seems to be able to prove it. One day, a new painting is released featuring a location in Australia. All the suspects in this case seem to be Australian residents, and there's no one who can ID the painting. Suddenly, the police become involved. They're able to identify the victim in the painting as aussie TV personality and murder suspect, and they're soon able to catch Ross.	Bob Ross always claimed he painted the landscapes of his paintings from memory. But many people believed the true location of his murders was always somewhere near the canvas. Some claimed he killed in the mountains, others said the seashore. But no one could say for sure where the artist truly killed his victims. Occasionally, someone would catch a glimpse of Bob painting in a far-off corner of the country, but they never could confirm it was him. The police never could either. The only thing we knew for certain was that Bob Ross killed people. And we'll never know where his true murders took place.	Bob Ross was a serial killer. For years, he travelled around the country, murdering innocent people and painting their landscapes. He was a master of disguise and no one suspected him – until now. The police are closing in on Bob and they know that his paintings are more than just pretty landscapes. They're evidence of his crimes. As they close in, Bob knows that he won't be able to keep up the facade for much longer. He's running out of time and he knows that his next painting will be his last.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her.
2	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	As a child, I was always able to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. That's why I was an Auditor. Now, I'm slowly commercialsizing for a company that wants to prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. I'm the only Auditor left in the world.	Once upon a time, everyone was implanted with a birth control device during puberty. The device could only be deactivated once it was determined that the person was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. Unfortunately, the device was mainly used by the Dumbest People in the World. To prevent them from reproducing, everyone was implanted with the device. Unfortunately, this caused many problems. For one, the Dumbest People in the World were always Reproducing. The device was eventually determined to be a waste of time and the device was removed from everyone's body.	The birth control device was a small, inconspicuous device that was implanted during puberty. It was small enough that it could be worn underneath clothes, and it was practically impossible to detect. The device was designed to prevent only the dummest people in the world from reproducing. It could only be deactivated if it was determined that the person was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. As an Auditor, I was responsible for ensuring that everyone was using the birth control device correctly. I made sure they were regularly visiting the doctor to have the device replaced, and I made sure they were aware of the dangers of not using the device. The birth control device was a necessary evil, and I was duty-bound to make sure that everyone was using it correctly. If everyone were using the device, the dummest people in the world wouldn't be able to reproduce.	You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. As part of your job, you must deactivate the birth control devices of those who meet the criteria. It's a daunting task, but you take it seriously. After all, you know that the future of the world depends on it. You often wonder if you're doing the right thing. Is it really fair to prevent someone from having children just because they're not as intelligent as others? But you know that it's necessary. If the dumbest people in the world were allowed to reproduce, the world would be a much worse place. So you continue your work, making sure that only the best and brightest have the chance to have children. It's a difficult job, but someone has to do it.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge.
3	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in excellent condition, and the players are amused by the game of Asset Boutiqui. It took some acquired skills, but the players have reached the point where they can sell their stuff. The shop is less than 2 levels down from the one above it.	One day, a group of adventurers came to my pawn shop looking for looted treasure. They were out of luck, as I was in the process of bargaining with them. "Hey, pal," I called out. "I could use some gold to buy some new gear." The adventurers didn't have the heart to tell me that they couldn't provide the gold, so they asked me to keep the treasure. I did, and continued to help out my customers. But one day, the adventurers left. They had found a better place to find treasure. I was sad to see them go, but I was also glad that I had been able to help them out.	"How much for this mace?" asked the adventurer, holding up the weapon for me to see. I considered the object for a moment. It was a decent weapon, but I wasn't sure if it was worth my while to sell it. If I sold it, I could make a decent profit. However, I could also offer the adventurer a better price if I haggled with him. "I'll give you fifty gold for it," I said shortly. The adventurer looked surprised, but he didn't protest. He exchanged the mace for the fifty gold and left my shop. I pocketed the money and smiled to myself. Haggling was the key to my success as a pawn shop owner.	You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for adventurers who are trying to sell loot they've acquired. You're a master haggler, and you always get the best deals. Today, a young man walks into your shop with a sack full of loot. He looks exhausted, and you can tell he's been on a long journey. You ask him what he's got, and he shows you a collection of weapons, armor, and other items. You start to haggle with him, but he's obviously not in the mood. He's tired, and he just wants to get rid of his loot. You eventually agree on a price, and he hands over the loot. As you're sorting through the items, you notice a strange amulet. It's not like anything you've seen before, and you can't help but be intrigued. You ask the young man where he got it, and he tells you that he found it on the body of a strange creature he killed. He has no idea what it is, but he thought you might. You examine the amulet closely, and you can tell that it's magical. You have no idea what its purpose is, but you're determined to find out. You'll have to study it more, but you're sure you can figure it out. This could be a very valuable find, and you're glad the young man brought it to you.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.
4	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The something invisible was around when myrays were sleeping. It was following me as I went to my home to sleep at night. I was wakes up to see it and try to avoid it. I even place some distance between us. But it's still there. It's always there. And it's notGoing into my home is like confronting some massive ghost. I'm relieved when I'm not under the influence of that something invisible any longer.	One day, I Notice something Invisible in my Home. I try to expose it without letting it know that I'm aware of its presence. But it seems to be very determined to stay hidden. It can't seem to let go. It's like it wants to stay with me and keep me company. I appreciate it for its company, but I'm afraid that it might damage my home. I need to find a way to keep it away.	I was cleaning my kitchen one day, when I felt something moving around in the corner. I looked and saw a small, black cat dart out from under the cupboard. I chased it around the kitchen, but it was too fast for me. I finally catch it and pick it up, but when I turn around, the cupboard is empty! I couldn't believe it - the cat was invisible!	I've always felt like I wasn't alone in my house. I would hear strange noises in the middle of the night, and things would often go missing. I never really thought much of it until recently. I've been trying to catch whatever it is that's been living in my house for weeks now. I've set up cameras and tried to stay up all night to see if I could catch it in the act. But so far, I've had no luck. Tonight, I'm going to try a different approach. I'm going to pretend to go to bed and see if whatever it is will come out of hiding. I'll be waiting for it, and this time, I'll finally be able to expose the invisible creature that's been living in my home.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been.
5	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that you meet that day is everyone's favorite liar, himself. He tells a lies that create Fake friends and node's in his life. But when you spend some time with him, you realize that he is a piece of land that has been adapted to tell a lie. His face is hidden by a mask that is the only thing left that allows him to exist. His eyes water up and he can't stop himself from telling a lie after a lie after a lie. The biggest and most popular with the other liars, he Surrey, he can't help the lies he tells that will find him by name and end up on the ground. Every day, he feels like a continues lieber, as his life hangs in the balance. When he finally tells you the truth, it is the truth that he knows.	You meet the person at a party and they tell you a story of a fight they had with a friend. They say the fight was so intense that they left with a black eye. What could be more incriminating than leaving with a black eye? You take the person's word for it and leave the party. You don't tell anyone about what you saw at the party and you don't tell anyone about the black eye. You hope that the person will die in a fire, since that is the only way that you would be able to get rid of that huge scar.	I can't forget the first time I saw him. He was walking down the street, and his massive scar was glaring brightly against his skin. It was so big, it looked like it was cutting him in half. I couldn't help but stare at it, and I could feel my heart racing as I wondered what kind of story it could be.	You meet someone at a party who you instantly take a liking to. They're charming, funny, and you can't help but be drawn to them. As the night goes on, you find yourself getting lost in conversation with this person. They tell you about their life and you share some stories of your own. At one point in the conversation, they mention that they've never lied before. You're surprised to hear this, especially given the size of the scar on their chest. They explain that the scar is from the time they told their biggest lie. You find yourself getting more and more curious about this person and their past. Eventually, you pluck up the courage to ask them about the scar. They hesitated at first, but then they told you the story. They lied about being in love with someone in order to protect that person's feelings. They knew the truth would hurt them more than any lie ever could. As the lie came out of their mouth, they could see the scar begin to form. It has been a constant reminder of their mistake ever since. Even though they made a mistake, you can't help but admire this person for their honesty. You walk away from that conversation feeling like you've gained a new and special friend.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past?

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The adventurers are a group of six youngmen who have just accomplished a major quest in the land of risk- Insider Mods. A few hours ago, they were selling their opponent's final weapon, the Spooky Pipe, for a high price. They are052 Chasing the offer of the final weapon would put their life in danger, so they decided to sell it. But, since the quest was only for a small part of the whole game, they are not able to wear the final weapon and are only able to find recipes for new ones.	The clanking of coins in my pawnshop was a familiar refrain. It had been a while since anyone had come to sell their loot, and I was always happy to help. Tonight, two adventurers came in. They were majorly tattered, and their clothes were only half-cleaned. One had a gash on his forehead and a cut on his cheek. The other had a bandage over his eye. The first man said to me, "Can we trade some of our gear for some of these coins?" I took a look at their gear. It wasn't much, but it would do. I gave them a few coins and said, "Sure, why not?" They traded their gear, and I ended up with a jug of poisoned wine, a shield, a cloak, and a set of combat boots. I wasn't very happy with the trade, but I was kind enough to give them some experience points in return. The second man said to me, "They're really good gear, but we can't give them up." I took a look at their gear. It wasn't much, but it would do. I gave them a few coins and said, "I don't think so. They're just weapons. They're not really worth anything else." They traded their gear, and I ended up with a jug of poisoned wine, a shield, a cloak, and a set of combat boots. I was still not very happy with the trade, but I was kind enough to give them some experience points in return. After they finished trading, the first man said, "It was worth it. We've got some really great gear now." The second man said, "I know. We'll keep it here." They both took a bag of coins from the store and went outside. I watch them for a few minutes, but they didn't come back in. I sighed and went back to cleaning my store. I had a feeling that they would never come back.	It was a typical day at the RPG pawn shop. The adventurers came in, looking for a deal on their newly acquired loot. The shopkeeper, always up for a good bargain, haggled with them for a while before coming to an agreement. He let them sell their loot for a lower price than they originally wanted, but made sure to get his fair share as well. The adventurers were happy with the deal, and thanked the shopkeeper before leaving. The shopkeeper looked at the money in his hands, satisfied with his day's work. He smiled, thinking about how much fun he was going to have haggling with the next group of adventurers.	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you're always trying to get the best prices for your customers. Today, a group of adventurers came into your shop, trying to sell some of their loot. You haggled with them for a while, but in the end, you got the best price for your customers. You're always happy to help out adventurers, and you're always looking for the best deals.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart.
2	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	Multiplayer gaming was starting to feel like a dragging failure. Harry was drawledhabitualクロエ, but at least he was doing well in the head-to-head competition. He managed to get close to the next guy, but by the time he got close, the other guy had already won. Harry was left with little choice but to hurry up the competition. As heBadass Rogue failed toGHZ, Harry gets an idea. Hey, he might be a slime, but he's still a human. We can try and win the competition by himself. Harry gets out his Angular Isomorphic art and starts create a buckteens of skinorganisms. He gets tired of being the second fiddle, so he decides to just pull the rabbit out of the hat. Vindicated	As the magician and the rabbit were on stage, the rabbit was sick of playing second fiddle. The magician had been using him as a mere tool, and the rabbit was getting tired of it. He wanted to be the star of the show, not the rabbit that was dragged along just to keep the show going. "You're no good," the magician said to the rabbit. "You're just a cheap ornament. I can't do without you, but I can't keep using you. You're going to have to go." The rabbit was sad, but he knew he couldn't refuse the magician. He was grateful for the opportunity to make a show, but he would no longer be a valuable instrument.	The magician was tired of always being the rabbit in the hat. He was sick of always being the one that got to be the center of attention. So he decided to do something about it. He put on a show that would amaze and astound everyone in attendance. He pulled out a rabbit that had been hiding in his hat the whole time. The rabbit was sick of always being the second fiddle. The magician made her the star of the show and she loved every minute of it.	The magician and his rabbit are on stage, performing their usual tricks. But the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. He's been stuck in that hat for far too long, and he's had enough. So, during the next trick, when the magician pulls him out of the hat, the rabbit makes his move. He bites the magician's hand, hard. The audience gasps in shock as the rabbit makes a break for it, running off stage and into the night. The magician is left reeling, nursing his wounded hand. He knows that he can't go on without his rabbit, but he also knows that he can't keep him in a cage forever. It's time to let him go.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was!
3	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	Whenaisi finished her instilling in the form of birth control devices last year, she had never thought of the future when it came to its ability to her. She had always been a smart girl, but this new ability had CAUTIOUSLY SOONened her. The world seen from her new perspective was load with implications. She wasoxygenated andiether by the side of the road while her 1	Auditors are the most intelligent people in the world. We know what's best for those who rely on us and we work hard to prevent the dumbest people from reproducing. We implant birth control devices into people during puberty so that only the most intelligent and stable people can have children. We're confident that this will keep the world safe and happy. Thank you for your support!	It was a bleak future, where only the smartest people in the world could reproduce. To prevent the dumbest people from producing children, they were implanted with a birth control device during puberty. The device could only be deactivated once it was determined that the person was intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. This was a daunting task, as only the smartest people in the world were chosen to be Auditors. An Auditor was responsible for ensuring that the smartest people in the world were reproducing responsibly and ensuring that they were raising well-adjusted humans. It was a difficult and challenging job, but it was essential to the future of the planet.	You are an Auditor, tasked with determining who is intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. As part of your job, you must deactivate the birth control devices implanted in people during puberty. You take your job very seriously and have a strict set of criteria that you use to determine who is eligible to have children. Over the years, you have become very good at your job and have helped to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. However, you recently came across a case that has you stumped. A young woman named Sarah has applied to have her birth control device deactivated. On paper, she meets all of your criteria. She is intelligent, stable, and has a good job. However, something about Sarah just doesn't sit right with you. You can't quite put your finger on it, but you have a gut feeling that she is not ready to be a parent. After much deliberation, you decide to deny Sarah's request. You know that it is a tough decision, but you believe it is the right one.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot.
4	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud troop is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are: Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Hitler wasn't the only person interested in joining Freud's clinical trials. Stalin was also interested. He was interested in learning about Freud's latest research and how it could help him in his goals of world domination. Trotsky also wanted to be a part of the trials, but he was too young and too inexperienced. There was only one person left who seemed to have no interest in joining the trials - Josip Broz Tito. He was interested in learning about Freud's research and the possible uses it could be put to in the future. But, other than that, he was just a normal, average guy who wanted to go to school and have a good life.	Freud was excited to test his newest theory on his intriguing patients. He placed an ad in the local newspaper, looking for anyone who might be interested in participating in his clinical trials. Some of Freud's most famous patients, Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito, all responded to the ad. Freud was thrilled to have such brilliant minds on board for his experiment. Each patient was interviewed and tested according to Freud's experimental protocols. The results of the trials were shocking. Some of the patients experienced strange hallucinations, while others displayed an uncanny ability to think logically and decisively. But despite the varied results, all of the patients agreed that the experience was illuminating and insightful. They all felt that they had learned something valuable about themselves and their relationship to the world. After the trials were complete, Freud looked at his patients and smiled. He knew that his research had been successful. He had discovered something new about the human psyche, and he was sure that it would change the course of history.	Sigmund Freud's latest research involves clinical trials testing a new psychological theory. He needs participants, so he takes out an ad in the local newspaper. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men are in their early twenties and are eager to participate in the trials. Freud is impressed with their enthusiasm and decides to use all four of them as test subjects. Over the course of the trials, Freud begins to notice some disturbing trends. Hitler and Stalin are both unusually aggressive and seem to take pleasure in causing pain to others. Trotsky is also aggressive, but his aggression is directed more towards ideas and concepts, rather than people. Tito, on the other hand, is relatively calm and level-headed. As the trials progress, Freud becomes increasingly worried about the potential implications of his research. He begins to feel that he may have unleashed something dangerous into the world. But it's too late to turn back now, and Freud must see the trials through to the end.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do.
5	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	That day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. The person tells you a story of how they lived before being betrayed by the liar in the world. They talk about the lies they told, how each one led to this spot on their body. You rest your chin on the person's head and listen. The person explains how they were treated with lying when they were young, but it never really matters in the grand scheme of things. You want to believe them, but you can't. The biggest lie of all is the one that's been eating at you for years.	You meet someone new, someone that you have never met before. They tell you a story that has a serious flaw. In the story, a large part of the story is made up and they even admit it. The story has a large scar on the liar's body. It is the largest one that you have ever seen. It is a reminder that they have lied and put their entire self-worth on the line.	I was drawn to him from the moment I saw him. He was different from anyone I had ever met. His one big scar was the biggest thing about him. I couldn't help but to ask him about it. He laughed and said that the biggest lie he ever told was that he was from another planet. Everyone had laughed at him, but he didn't care. He loved telling the story. It was the first time I had ever seen someone that was true to themselves. He was beautiful in his own way. After we had talked for a while, I asked him to stay with me. He said that he couldn't, but he thanked me for showing him a side of the world that he hadn't ever seen before. I never saw him again, but I remember him well. He was the first person to make me see that there was so much more to life than being afraid to be who you are.	You meet someone at a party who only has one scar. It is the biggest one you have ever seen. You ask them what happened and they tell you a story about how they were once a very successful liar. They lied their way through life, never getting caught. But one day, they told a whopper of a lie and got caught. The scar is a reminder of that mistake. They now live a life of truth, never wanting to make that mistake again.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	The person that met me was always a little uncomfortable, but I didn't mind. I was happy to be being around someone who had one glaring exception to the rule. It was when we met that the anxiety rises. How did this person get to be like this? He tried to tell me that he was careful, but I knew that he didn't want to believe me. The proof was in the Tatler article that I had read the year before. "What is this thing?" He looked back at his National Health& workoutendars with a raised eyebrow. "I honestly can't believe that this is real. How did you know to check it out?" I shrugged my shoulders and ¥ed the what-ifs around in his Spiritedfonts Liberals and Democrats forum.onics and skills?s in college. He seemed like a nice guy, but I knew he would be house-trained and available in case of need. "I don't know. I read it too. I saw the article." I SCHEDULED THIS GUY FOR OUR FIRST TIME BUT HE SAYS HE CAME UP FOR APPEAL MORE THAN A FEW TIMES. "He says he does, but I never saw him. What happened?" His voice was light and shaking. I piésrefuté la réponse de la personne et choisis un autre moment pour revenir. "I don't know. I read it too. I saw the article." I SCHEDULED THIS GUY FOR OUR FIRST TIME BUT HE SAYS HE CAME UP FOR APPEAL MORE THAN A FEW TIMES. "He says he does, but I never saw him. What happened?" His voice was light and shaking. I piésrefuté la réponse de la personne et choisis un autre moment pour revenir.	You meet the guy one day when you're walking to work. He has a long, thin scar on his left cheek that runs down his nose to his lips. It's a large, ugly tag. As you walk by him, you can't help but notice it. You can't help but feel like you've seen him before.	I was always fascinated by the person with the biggest scar. It was so vast and noticeable, contrasting starkly with the others on their skin. I couldn't help but to ask them about it, and they would always tell me a story. Apparently, this person had lied so much that their body was now permanently scarred. Every lie had created a new, deep wound, stretching all the way down to their soul. It was a harrowing tale, and I soon learned that I should never lie either. If I wanted to keep my own scar small, I would have to be very careful about the words that came out of my mouth.	You can't help but stare at the person in front of you. They have a single, massive scar stretching across their entire body. It's the biggest one you have ever seen. You can't help but wonder what could have caused such a thing. Did they lie about something really big? Or maybe they were lied to? Either way, you can't help but feel intrigued by this person. They seem to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders. But despite all that, they still stand tall. You want to know more about this person. You want to know what their story is. But for now, you'll just have to admire them from afar.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be.
2	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in close proximity to the edge of a cave. When an adventurer tries to leave, they are quickly attacked by a large cat. The blood and feast that the cat has feeding on the adventurers seems to advantageous to them. They lich, a powerful drow, and a dual-handedly, are trying to take the adventurers down. The cat is more than happy to Anita, the owner of the shop, and her cash-strapped team. The adventurers, meanwhile, are fighting back and winning every time.	One day, a group of adventurers came to my pawnshop looking forunicipal treasure. They were looking for a treasure that had been lost in a recent battle, and they were very excited to find it. I haggled with them for a while, but I was unsuccessful in finding the treasure. The adventurers were very upset and decided to leave. Later that night, I heard a knock at the door. I opened it to find a group of Adventurers, disappointed that they couldn't find the treasure. They were very sorry to have wasted my time, and they left in a huff. The next day, I saw the adventurers again. They were back with a different goal, this time looking for a magical item. They were very excited to find it and were willing to pay a lot of money for it. But I wasn't going to let them profit from my town's treasure. I haggled with them for a while, but I still couldn't find the item. The adventurers were very disappointed and decided to leave. Later that night, I heard a knock at the door. I opened it to find a group of Adventurers, disappointed that they couldn't find the treasure. They were very sorry to have wasted my time, and they left in a huff. The next day, I saw the adventurers again. They were back with a different goal, this time looking for a magical item. They were very excited to find it and were willing to pay a lot of money for it. But I wasn't going to let them profit from my town's treasure. I haggled with them for a while, but I still couldn't find the item. The adventurers were very disappointed and decided to leave. One day, a group of adventurers came to my pawnshop looking for municipal treasure. They were looking for a treasure that had been lost in a recent battle, and they were very excited to find it. I haggled with them for a while, but I was unsuccessful in finding the treasure. The adventurers were very angry and decided to leave. Later that night, I heard a knock at the door. I opened it to find a group of Adventurers, disappointed that they couldn't find the treasure. They were very sorry to have wasted my time, and they left in a huff. The next day, I saw the adventurers again. They were back with a different goal, this time looking for a magical item. They were very excited to find it and were willing to pay a lot of money for it. But I wasn't going to let them profit from my town's treasure. I haggled with them for a while, but I still couldn't find the item. The adventurers were very disappointed and decided to leave. One day, a group of adventurers came to my pawnshop looking for municipal treasure. They were looking for a treasure that had been lost in a recent battle, and they were very excited to find it. I haggled with them for a while, but I was unsuccessful in finding the treasure. The adventurers were very angry and decided to leave. Later that night, I heard a knock at the door. I opened it to find a group of Adventurers, disappointed that they couldn't find the treasure. They were very sorry to have wasted my time, and they left in a huff.	The shop was always busy, with adventurers coming in and out all day long. Some would try to haggle with the owner, while others would just come in and grab whatever they could. One particular adventurer decided to haggle with the shop owner. They started off by asking for a lower price than what the other adventurers were asking, but the owner wasn't having that. They kept negotiating until they eventually came to an agreement. The shop owner was happy with the deal they made, and the adventurer was happy that they were able to get a good value for their loot.	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for a good deal, and you're not afraid to haggle. today, a young woman comes into your shop, carrying a large sack. She dumps it out on the counter, and you see a pile of loot. She looks exhausted, and she's covered in dirt and blood. "I'll give you 100 gold for this," she says. You appraise the loot and decide that it's worth at least double that. "I'll give you 150 gold," you say. The woman looks disappointed, but she nods and agrees. She counts out the gold and hands it over. As she's leaving, she thanks you. "Thank you for helping me out," she says. "I really appreciate it." You watch her leave, and you can't help but feel good about yourself. You just made a great deal, and you helped someone in need. That's what you're all about.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own. She starts to sway side to side and strums her fingers on my counter top to the tune of ``*The Victorious Death of Varnstraegarr*,'' and I swear if I hear it one more goddamn time today, I will murder that fucking bard in the tavern across the street *myself*. All he does is sing. And sing. And sing. And it's the same song. And it's all fine and well and dandy when he's holed up where I can't hear him, but I keep my shop door open for convenience and that little shit will wander out into the street to belt his bore of a tune and I-... I'm getting side-tracked. I raise my hand and clear my throat, then refocus on the hero in front of me. ``Listen, Eetmai- Uh-'' I suddenly realize that I don't know the last name of the hero of our known world. ``S'teemeebuns!'' ``... Uh-huh. Okay. Listen, Eetmai S'teemeebuns, I really appreciate all that do you for, well. Everyone. I do. But I can't unload these llamas and forks as fast as you're bringing them to me.'' ``But they take up *so much* inventory space!'' I feel my eye twitch, and I furrow my eyebrows. A tinge of irritation sparks somewhere deep within me. ``... Maybe you can stop picking everything up,'' I suggest. I intend for my tone to remain neutral, but it's bubbling over with the seeds of seething hatred. ``... I can't help it.
3	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	When eighth-grader Rowan was decided that he was meant to be a auditor, he didn't know what he would do next. He had no idea how to live with the fact that he had no choice in the matter. One day, Rowan decided to take a interest in his own life and began trying to excel ineverything he did. He was slowly shaping himself up as an intelligent person, and he waspleased to know that he hadMaking him more intelligent only marginally harder than it was before. Even though he didn't know it yet, he was being forefront in the battle to keep the birth control device deactivated until he was so old that he couldn't help but reproduce.	everybody is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. Naturally, some people find this decisionanny to be a total control Freak. They always think they're the only ones who need to be implanted with the device, or they're the only ones who will be able to have kids. Others find it helpful. They can't live without it, but it's the least of their concerns. The device has helped them take control of their lives, and they're happy to have it.	It was a dark and dreary night, the kind that made you long for the sun to come up so you could start the day. I was lying in bed, thinking about everything that was going on in my life. I had just turned 21 years old and I was still a virgin. I had always been curious about sex, but I was afraid of getting involved. I had heard stories about people who got pregnant while they were still teenagers. I didn't want that kind of life. I was tired of being the butt of everyone's jokes. Suddenly, I heard a noise outside my window. It sounded like someone was trying to break in. I got up and went to look, but I couldn't see anything. I waited a few minutes, but nothing happened. I crossed my fingers and went back to bed. A few hours later, I heard the same noise again. This time, I could see someone outside my window. It was a man, and he was trying to break in. I was terrified. I didn't know what to do. Then, I remembered the birth control implant I had been given when I turned 14. I had never used it, but I was confident that it would work. I went to my closet and got it. I crossed the room and opened the window, Then I threw the implant out the window. The man outside stopped trying to break in and hurried away. I was relieved. I didn't want to get involved in any more trouble. I was an auditor, and my job was to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. That man was unfortunately one of them. Thanks to the implant, I was safe.	You're an Auditor, responsible for determining who is intelligent and stable enough to have children. It's a big responsibility, and one that you take very seriously. Most people are implant	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke. ``You said COLLECTIVELY, didn't you? What does that mean?'' ``Well, I can look at each of your IAC's, Intelligence Assessment Chips, separately. I just wouldn't recommend it.'' ``Why not?'' he asked.
4	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross Reproduces the Look of each of his paintings under bustle pressure of a real place.	Bob Ross spent his life painting landscapes, painting everything from small towns to vast savannas. But his most popular paintings are of his own murders. Every one of his iconic paintings are of massacres, of people killed by guns or spears. Some of them are grotesque, with blood and human flesh dripping from the canvas. But even though they're real, they still leave Bob Ross with a sense of horror.	Bob Ross was a genius painter. His landscapes are some of the most strikingly beautiful images ever created. But, behind the scenes, Bob was a serial killer. He killed people all over the United States, painting their landscapes as a way to conceal his crimes. One day, a detective recognized one of Bob's paintings as a crime scene from a recent killing. He was able to arrest Bob and bring him to justice. Now, his landscapes are all just paintings, and no one ever has to fear being murdered by this talented artist again.	Bob Ross was not your typical artist. For one, he always used a landscape format for his paintings. For another, he always chose really scenic, beautiful places for his paintings. But what nobody knew was that each of those landscape paintings was actually a real place - the different locations of his countless murders. Bob Ross was a serial killer. He would travel around the country, finding beautiful places to visit and paint. But while he was there, he would also find people to kill. He would strangle them, stab them, shoot them - whatever method he felt like using at the time. And then he would leave their bodies in the very place that he had painted. No one ever suspected Bob Ross of being a killer. He was always so gentle and kind, always had a smile on his face. But the truth was that he was a cold-blooded murderer. And the only way anyone would ever know would be to look at his paintings - and see the bloody bodies hidden within them.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth. Her mouth floods with the taste of old bootstrap, and... blood? Is that her tongue on the floor? That squirming, wriggling thing? ``I see what you're trying to do there sweetie, but I don't much mind.
5	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud has long been interested in the relationship between intelligence and intelligence decision-making. So he sends a research team to, by his estimate, the most intelligent place in the city - andEROTICA The team includes three teenagers, all of whom are extremely intelligent and could potentially benefit from his new theory. They set out on their daily Hoax Bombing campaign, supported by theirCube captain persona, in an attempt to1) Fabian are able to 1) 2)They can destory the mind of the leader of the charge and2) 3) They can stop the leader's arguments before they even begin and3) 4) And 5) All of the people in the city are going to save themselves. The first twoillions miles of the journey areSpeed the auxilliary ship has with the fifth laden furor the fancy toaandertoandertoanderto The sixth and ultimate, furor the last, isa journey to a beauteous young princess anda The auxilliary ship has a heard a whispered conversation among the passagers about whether or not they are wanted on the7train. One facial recognition expert says no, they are not the right people for the job. One neurologist says yes, but with different implications. The prince can see that the city is going to be a disaster, so he sets out to 1) save the city and2) stop the leader of the charge. 1) forecast Theatre of the Democracies in time for the city's 2) notice the city's impending doom 3) run into the city's most intelligent person 4) find out what he knows 5) lead the prince to the city's most intelligent person The prince is not only the most intelligent person in the city, but he is also the only one who knows that the city is going to be a disaster. The most intelligent person in the city tells the prince that the city is going to be a disaster, and the prince can see that he is going to save the city. The prince tells the most intelligent person in the city that he knows the city is going to be a disaster, and the most intelligent person in the city tells the prince that he knows the city is going to be a disaster. The prince is the most intelligent person in the city, and the most intelligent person in the city knows that the city is going to be a disaster.	Adolf Hitler read the ad and was filled with excitement. He had always been interested in psychiatry, and this was his chance to study under one of the most renowned professors in the field. Stalin was already the leader of the Soviet Union, and Trotsky was the leader of the Yugoslav Republic. Josip Broz Tito was just a teenage boy. When Hitler met Tito, he was impressed. Tito was intelligent, articulate, and determined. He was also young, and Hitler was confident that he could lead the Yugoslav Republic to greatness. Hitler and Stalin meeting was the beginning of a long and dangerous friendship. The two men would work together to create a new world order, while secretly manipulating the other nations.	Sigmund Freud was excited to begin the clinical trials of his latest research. He put an ad in a newspaper, and only Adolf Hitler responded. Freud was cautiously optimistic about the prospect of working with such a prodigious individual, but he was still cautious. He invited Hitler to come to Vienna to participate in the trials, but Hitler declined. Trotsky, Joseph Stalin, and Leon Trotsky all responded to the ad, but Josip Broz Tito was still only 21. Freud was excited to work with such young and promising minds, but he was still reluctant to bring them on board. However, he decided to meet with them all in order to discuss the trials further. Freud met with Stalin, Trotsky, and Tito and they all seemed enthusiastic about the opportunity to participate in the trials. However, Freud was still cautious. He was worried that one of the young minds might be too ambitious or destructive. However, he decided to bring them all on board after careful consideration. He was sure that they would all be able to contribute to the trials in a positive way.	Sigmund Freud was excited to start clinical trials for his latest research in 1913. He placed an ad in the newspaper, hoping to find some participants. The only people who responded were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. Freud was intrigued by the fact that these four men would be interested in his research. He met with each of them individually and was quickly able to see that they were all very intelligent and driven. He was particularly impressed with Hitler and Stalin, who seemed to have a deep understanding of human psychology. Trotsky and Tito were also very insightful, but Freud felt that they were more idealistic and not as grounded in reality as the other two. Freud decided to invite all four men to participate in his research. He was interested to see how their different personalities would interact and what insights they would provide. The clinical trials ended up being very successful, and Freud was able to learn a lot from all four participants. He was particularly struck by the insights of Hitler and Stalin, who he felt had a unique understanding of human nature.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word. They were both, ( Hitler and Stalin ), completely exhausted, by my mental research, in the end, which I pursued with the utmost ruthlessness, given the hostility of my patients, as I am always very much interested in my patients ( that is to say their brains ). To me, Hitler had said that my interest in brains was a kind of perverted Jewish death wish ; that the Jews had long had a vendetta against everything human following their harsh experiences with the Egyptians, and that we ( this was news to me ), had renounced our being ( to be ) because the Hebrew language has no copula verb ( to be ), unlike the German language ( which does ), preferring instead to worship the Tetragrammaton ( translated as ``I am that I am'', or ``I shall be what I shall be'', ``I shall be what I am'' or ``I will become what I choose to become'', ``I Will Become whatsoever I please'' ), which, Hitler had said : You worship this thing if it were the only being that deserved to exist!

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Adolf Hitler was the only person who responded to Sigmund Freud's ad. The other three people who responded wereJoseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky and Josip Broz Tito. Each of them had a different reason for wanting to be a part of the clinical trials of Freud's latest research. Joseph Stalin because he was the leader of Russia, Leon Trotsky because he was the leader of the Marxist faction of the Communist party, and Josip Broz Tito because he was the leader of the Slovenian people.	Freud was excited to receive responses to his clinical trial ad. He was especially interested in the young, ambitious Hitler, Stalin, Trotsky and Tito. Hitler was the first to respond. Freud was immediately struck by his intelligence and ambition. He was also very confident and sure of himself. Freud asked Hitler about his psychological profile. Hitler was very honest with Freud and said that he had a lot of anger and resentment inside him. He said that he wanted to use his power to make people happy and to make the world a better place. Freud was very impressed by Hitler. He believed that he had the potential to be a great doctor. Stalin was the next to respond. Freud was immediately struck by his lack of empathy. He said that he only cared about himself and his own interests. Stalin was also very confident and sure of himself. He said that he was going to be the next leader of Russia and that he was going to change the world. Freud was not as impressed by Stalin as he was by Hitler. He thought that he had some very dangerous ideas. Tito was the last to respond. Freud was immediately struck by his warmth and kindness. He said that he wanted to help people and that he wanted to make the world a better place. Freud was impressed by Tito. He thought that he had the potential to be a great doctor as well. Freud was very excited to start the clinical trials with his talented young patients.	Sigmund Freud is in his office in Vienna, Austria, when he gets a call from a newspaper editor. The editor tells him that there are four people who have responded to his ad for clinical trials of his latest research. Freud is surprised to see that the four people who have responded are Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. He decides to meet with each of them individually. During his meeting with Hitler, Freud quickly realizes that the young man is extremely angry and has a lot of pent-up aggression. He believes that Hitler could benefit from his research. Stalin is much different than Hitler. He is calm and collected, but Freud can see the ambition in his eyes. He believes that Stalin could be a great leader one day. Trotsky is intelligent and articulate, but Freud can sense the underlying insecurity in him. He believes that Trotsky could benefit from his research. Tito is the youngest of the four, but he is already quite confident and self-assured. Freud believes that Tito has the potential to be a great leader one day. After meeting with all four men, Freud decides to invite them to participate in his research. He is curious to see how his research will affect each of them.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word.
2	Each of Bob Ross' landscape paintings is a real place, the different locations of his countless murders.	Bob Ross has been painting landscape paintings for many years, each of his locations being a place that he has killed many people in. The landscape has always been a source of inspiration for him, and he knows that it will continue to be so. One day, he is--+ 'There we are!' He looked out the window and saw a small town across the river. 'What do you see?') He looked back at the painting and saw that it was indeed his place. He had killed many people in it, but now it was his new home.	Bob Ross had a dark and sketchy history. His paintings often featured blood and violence, and most of his murders remain unsolved to this day. One day, a detective named Tom decided to take a closer look at Ross's work. Tom was interested in the parallels between Ross's crimes and the many places he had killed. As he began to piecing together Ross's life, Tom soon became convinced that his illustrator's murders were connected. Each painting featured a real location, and Tom was able to link them all together. Now, with evidence and clues in hand, Tom is working tirelessly to find the killer. He knows that there is only one person who can solve the murders of Bob Ross and dozens of other murderers, and he will do whatever it takes to get them justice.	Bob Ross was one of the most famous landscape painters of all time. He created beautiful paintings of mountains, hills, rivers, and forests, all of which were real places. However, over the years, it has been discovered that Bob Ross committed countless murders in each of these locations. For years, he was able to get away with it, but now the police are finally getting close to catching him.	Bob Ross was not only a talented painter, but he was also a serial killer. For years, he travelled across the country, murdering people and using their blood to paint his iconic landscapes. Now, the different locations of his paintings are known as the sites of his countless murders. Many people still admire his work, unaware of the dark secret behind it. Some say that his paintings are haunted by the spirits of his victims. Others believe that Ross himself is still out there, somewhere, painting more landscapes and adding more locations to his gruesome collection.	The hatchet falls ; she is not fast enough. She is never, ever fast enough. Arm and body separate with a sickening, sucking sound. Her hoarse cries meet only cold concrete and rebar. Carving her up. He is carving her up and soon there will be nothing left. ``Isn't that a pretty little arm? Lets just splay out these fingers and... well now we have a beautiful tree, don't we.'' He grabs her chin and forces her to gaze upon The Canvas. The Canvas was *all white* when they began, and now it is red. Stalks of flesh-colored flower-fingers grow under a crimson sun. Strips of skin provide undulating, beautiful stalks of grass. The Canvas is eating her. Soon she will become the Canvas. *Gnugggggh! Gnurr* Her leather gag snaps against her teeth.
3	Something invisible lives in your home. You try to expose it without letting it know that you're aware of its presence.	The something invisible was always there, lurking in the corner of your eye, watching you Occasionally, it would trigger yourawareness and they would both be on you in a second. It was always too easy to let it win, and it enjoyed this how -xx- you did not even know.	My home is constantly full of dark shadows. Every time I turn around, I see something moving in the corners or in the shadows. I know it's not a wraith, but I can't seem to get rid of it. I've tried to confront it, but it's always there, lurking in the corner or in the shadows. I hate it so much, and I can't seem to get rid of it.	My husband and I have always been paranoid about something living in our home. We never knew what it was, but we felt like it was watching us. We would walk around our house, trying to find whatever it was, but we never could. One day, we were sitting in the living room, watching TV. We were just about to go to bed, when we both heard a noise. We looked up, and we could see something moving around the corner. We screamed, and the thing ran away. We never found out what it was, but we are never going to take our eyes off the corner, now.	You have always known that something invisible lives in your home. You can't see it, but you can feel its presence. It's always there, lurking in the shadows, watching you. You have never been able to expose it, but you have never given up trying. You have set traps and tried to catch it, but it always seems to be one step ahead of you. You have never let it know that you are aware of its presence, but you are always on the lookout for it. You know that it is there, and you will not rest until you have exposed it.	“ It's just the wind. ” exasperation pushed the words past her lips as I stared straight through her to the door that had moved, just ever so slightly. I took pause, eyes flicking over the room as though somehow, if I tried hard enough, if I just willed my eyes to do it they would catch a glimpse of the creature. “ Yeah, I keep forgetting this room is drafty, ” I mumbled in response, watching her heft the basket of laundry onto her hip and head out the room and down the hall. But the bedroom wasn't drafty, never had been.
4	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is in disrepair, with items missing from where they are supposed to be. The characters are a GM and a player, trying to get some combat experience together. The player wants to sell some gear, and the GM wants to make sure the shop is safe before Lorelei can liberally blessed the place.	It was a typical day at my pawn shop. I was bargaining with a group of adventurers, trying to get the best deal for some powerful gear they had acquired. I was always happy to help out someone in need, and I was especially helpful to those who had a lot of gear. I was making a few transactions when I heard someone calling out to me. I turned to see a young girl, balancing a large bag of treasure in one hand and a grinned face in the other. "Can I buy this one?" she asked me, pointing to a weapon I was selling. I hesitated for a moment, but then I decided that it would be a good opportunity to make a deal. I gave her the weapon, and she shook it off before running away, happy to get the gear she wanted. I did not mind her coming to my pawn shop, as long as she was always happy. In the end, she always got what she wanted, and I got to keep the weapon.	I run an RPG pawn shop and I love it. It's a great way to make some money and it's always interesting to see what the adventurers bring in. Today, I was haggling with a young, inexperienced adventurer. He was trying to sell a bandit's treasure, but I wasn't interested. I told him that it was worth less than the gold he was offering. He wasn't happy, but he went away. I'm sure he'll come back again with a better offer.	You run an RPG pawn shop, and you're always on the lookout for good loot. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell you their loot, and you always try to get the best deal. Sometimes you feel like you're being taken advantage of, but you always try to get the best deal for your shop.	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me.
5	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	At the age of 15, she wasombie Henderson was Karma's with the most consequence in the world. After she'sPostsBARE Wire on social media to warn the world about the dangers ofBooJd, Henderson is born into a military family. Her parents were always hopes of Virginity in the house, but she is the only one who can stop them from making history.	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor. The first time you activate your birth control device, you're surprised to find that you're not the only one. All of your classmates have the same device implanted into their bodies. It's strange, but they all seem to be happy with the arrangement. You spend the first few years of your career trying to figure out how to use the device properly. Most of the time, it's easy. But every now and then, you happen across something that makes you crazy. For example, one of your classmates comes to you with a really stupid idea. She wants to create a society where everyone is born with a birth control device so that the stupid people can't reproduce. you and your audit team have to work hard to prevent that from happening.	I was born in a world where birth control was mandatory. All adults were implanted with a device during puberty that would prevent them from reproducing unless they were determined to be intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being. I was an Auditor, responsible for determining who was fit to continue living. It was a hard job, but I was determined to do my best. I reviewed the records of everyone who was implanted with the device and decided whom to deactivate. It was a tough decision, but I knew that the best interests of humanity were always my top priority.	As an Auditor for the Birth Control Authority, it is my job to determine who is worthy of having their birth control device deactivated. It is a weighty responsibility, as the future of humanity depends on only the smartest and most stable people reproducing. I interview each applicant and give them a battery of tests to assess their intelligence and emotional stability. It is not an easy job, but someone has to do it. The stakes are simply too high to leave it up to chance. There have been a few close calls over the years, but so far we have been successful in preventing the dumbest people in the world from reproducing. It is a daunting task, but one that I am proud to do.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot.

	prompt	A	B	C	D	E
1	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen.	One day, you meet someone that only has one scar ; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. You don't know what to do with him, you want to hug and kiss him, but you can't decide which is more Celia Bernadette's book, story or no story. You feel like she's always been there, just beyond your reach. You go to spend time with her, but she doesn't want to talk. She just stands there, with a big, beautiful, white scar on her bottom. You can't believe how slow it is for her to come to terms with her history. But you can't keep looking away either, because that would be to much intoOTOS her defect. You go over it all in your head time and time again, but it's like the words don't matter, the history isn't worth it. You can't eventyle try and move past it. Finally, youhours have rolling around in your head and you're on the brink of Federationing when you finally decide to talk to her. You the begin at the beginning and slowly work your way back. You see how it started, the start of her story, and how it led her to where she is now. The most important thing is that she's okay, and you want to be there to help her bring her story to consumate. The more you talk, the more her mind starts to focus and she starts to see the value in her story. You're no longer just living in the past, but rather, the story you want to tell is true. She is not alone and you can be a part of her story. The more you help, the more she starts to heal and start to feel safe. As she starts to realize how much work there is ahead of her, she starts to feel lighter and more content. She realized that she could handle anything she came with, because she had always been browserable. Now, she knows that she can do anything she wants and she knows that she can handle it. The scar on her bottom is a reminder that there is always something worth taking on. It's a lesson that she needs to learn and she knows that you can understand because you have always existed within its scope.	You watch as he walks around, his movements an blur as he	I never thought I would meet someone like her. She is the most honest person I have ever met. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. Even her lies have one simple goal- to make friends. I was drawn to her at first sight. Her honesty was refreshing, and I found myself wanting to know more about her. I soon found out that she only had one scar- the biggest one I had ever seen. I asked her what happened, and she told me that she had been truthful the entire time. The lie had created a larger scar on her soul, but she was happy and content. I was amazed by her bravery, and I felt inspired by her. I decided that I would be like her and be truthful from now on. I would never have to worry about the consequences of my lies, because I would know that they would only create a smaller scar on my body.	You live in a world where each lie creates a scar on the liar's body. The bigger the lie, the deeper and larger the mark. One day, you meet someone that only has one scar; it is the biggest one you have ever seen. When you ask them about it, they tell you the story of their life. They say that they were born into a family of liars. Everyone lied about everything, big or small. It was just what they did. As a result, everyone in their family had scars all over their bodies. But then, one day, they decided to stop lying. They decided to tell the truth, no matter what. Since then, they've only had that one scar. It's the scar of their past, of the life they used to live. But it's also a reminder of the strength it took to change.	My mind boiled over with thoughts, it raced with many theories and ideas as to what it could be. What did they do? What did they lie about? In this world, for some foresaken reason, god had betrayed his people. I knew lying was wrong, most of the time. But for me? Oh no, my mother taught me well, as would any mother would with the markings a lie would give you. You use your words and your mind. You think before you speak. You work your way around and at some point those markings mean nothing. Absolutely nothing. We all had minor scars, we all told small lies here and there, it was over looked most of the time. You would be given a look of embarrassment and there would be a certain quietness in the room. It would go over looked but everyone still knew when it happened : You lied. It was blunt. It was a strong odor no one could control. Scars all over our bodies, in odd places that surely made you wonder ; Can I trust you? Trust? What was trust in this world? The ones, the pure ones, who had no markings were sat upon a throne. You were good. You were clean, pure, holy, and surly too good to be true. But the others? The others with deep scars that showed their past? That showed the history of their mouth and what they had to offer? It was too much, just the sight of a deep scar was a very dangerous thing to behold. You wouldn't be trusted, you simply wouldn't be. It was an automatic detection of you being filthy, a filthy liar. We would bathe ourselves as children, confessing our sins and screaming out for God to make the markings go away. We would scrub our bodies until they'd bleed. We would put on creams and makeup, just to make it disappear. But the lie would still remain, and you couldn't take it back. The guilt would make you go mad and the scar would stay forever as a reminder. When I laid eyes upon this man, this man with the biggest and most deepest scar I had ever seen, I was over the edge with desire to know.
2	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired.	The shop is small, and some adventurers find the opportunity to acquire valuable loot charming. Others find the hand-on-dragons system toohz Content-entious. While there are some good offers, only a small percentage of players would eligble for one of the more notable NPCs. So, the shop is small, and players are .. Culled. In fact, the only players in the shop are you, the shop-owner, and two adventurers. The adventurers are from different regions, and they have different wants in terms of content in the shop. The shop is where players Transaction is done, and players can use theshop to purchase items. Players can also use theshop to purchase items from thein-game currency. adventurers can also use the shop to purchase items from thein-game currency.	There was once a town in the middle of a forest where an RPG pawn shop was located. The shop was known for being the best in the area, and it was always packed with adventurers who would try to sell theirahloot they've acquired. The adventurers who frequented the shop were all very talented in the game, and they would always come up with new and amazing techniques to get the most money out of their sales. One day, a new player made an appearance at the pawnshop. He was a very peculiar character, and he didn't seem to be familiar with the game. He came in and started bargaining for some of the RPG cards that were on the shelf. He seemed to be very desperate, and he wasn't even asking for a high price. He just wanted to buy them. The other players in the shop started to get a bit suspicious. They didn't think that this new player was capable of anything competitive or smart. They didn't think that he could even understand the game. Suddenly, the new player began to sword fight one of the other players in the store. He was incredibly successful, and he quickly overpowered the other player. The other players in the store started to back away in fear. The new player then turned to them and began to say incredible things. He said that he had "the best skills in the game," and he could defeat any player in a fair fight. The other players were so astonished by this that they didn't know how to react. The new player then turned his attention to the remaining players in the store, and he began to insult them. He said that they were all "stupid players," and he could beat them easily. The other players started to cry, and they didn't know what to do. The new player then walked out of the pawnshop, and he never came back again. The players in the store know that he wasn't just there to buy RPG cards, and he probably did something very bad to the other players.	It was a typical day at the RPG pawn shop. The customers were coming in, trying to sell whatever they had acquired while adventuring. Some were trying to get a good deal, others were just trying to get rid of their unwanted items. I was haggling with a group of adventurers. They were selling a treasure trove of items they had found while on their latest adventure. I was trying to get them to lower their price, but they wouldn't budge. In the end, I decided to give them a lower offer than what they wanted. I thought it was worth it to make some extra money. I was happy to have made a sale and ended the day with a bit of extra cash.	You run an RPG pawn shop. You haggle with adventurers who try to sell loot they've acquired. You're always on the lookout for the best deals, and you're never afraid to lowball an adventurer in order to get what you want. Today, a young woman comes into your shop, looking to sell some loot. She has a few weapons and armor, but nothing that really catches your eye. You start to lowball her, but she's not having it. She's adamant about getting a good price for her loot, and she's not afraid to haggle with you. After a few minutes of back-and-forth, you finally come to an agreement. She gets a fair price for her loot, and you get some new inventory for your shop. It's a win-win!	``Look what I got today!'' Eetmai exclaims as she dumps her bag of loot onto my counter, and I count seven- *seven*- ebony llama statuettes among several rolls of random fabrics, a silver dagger, various assorted gemstones, and three forks. Well, three is better than the fifteen she brought in four hours ago, and I only bought them because I felt bad it was the only loot she picked up after slaughtering the den of vampires that was sucking the village dry. But, still. You know. Why. *Why*. And, *oh*, these *llama* statuettes. Jaeven above, I am so sick of them. ``Llamas again. Oh joy,'' I state flatly, and Eetmai smiles widely, flashing her pearly white teeth. ``... Five gold.'' ``But these are *so* nice!'' She presses me as she shoves the llamas into a small pile and pushes them towards me. Her doe-like eyes are unnaturally wide and she's giving me a stare that bores into the deep, dark recesses of my soul. Deep, dark recesses that wish they could hide. Or jump of a cliff. I groan. Loudly. ``So were the four you brought me yesterday. And the several the day before that.'' I glance over my shoulder to the small basket full of the statuettes, and then glance back to her. ``Five.'' ``Ten!'' Her smile widens and she raises herself up on her toes, exposing more of her bare midriff. I'm not impressed. Really. If I would have been impressed by anything, it would have been her breasts, which she has clothed with a thin piece of leather shaped with boning. I don't know how she keeps them in check, but more importantly, I don't know how she hasn't sustained a lethal swording to the heart. In any case, her charm and womanly assets are lost on me. I have a set of my own.
3	A magician and the rabbit that he pulls out of a hat are on stage, the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle.	The magician pulls out a rabbit from the hat he is wearing and sets it down on the floor. The rabbit looks at him with a sick look, but after a moment of thought, begins to walking off to the right instead. The magician annoyedly looks at it, but doesn't say anything.	The magician pulled out the rabbit from his hat and set it on the ground. He told the rabbit that it was time to end its engagement with him. The rabbit grumbled, but decided to go along with the magician. The magician setup a few tricks, but the rabbit just looked at him, frustrated. The magician then told the rabbit that if it didn't want to keep playing second fiddle, then it should just run away. The rabbit grumbled, but decided to stay.	The magician steps up to the podium and starts to speak. "Hello, everyone! I am sure you are all excited to see my latest performance. As you know, I always bring out the best in my rabbits. Today, I have a special rabbit for you. She's a little bit different than the others. She's not very magical. In fact, I'm not sure she even exists. Nevertheless, she is a part of my performance, and I hope you enjoy her." The crowd murmurs, some excited, some skeptical. The magician pulls out a card from his pocket and looks at it. "Okay, let's get started. First, I want you all to take a look at my rabbit, Alice. Now, Alice is not very special. She's just a regular rabbit. But I want you to watch how I handle her. I'll take Alice out on stage, and I'll put her in my hand. I'll show her to the audience, and then I'll let her go. But here's the tricky part. Alice cannot disappear. She exists in the world, but she cannot leave it. So when I let her go, she will still be here, onstage, for you to see. So pay close attention!" The magician takes Alice out on stage, and the audience cheers. He shows her to the crowd, and then let her go. But Alice is still there, in the magician's hand. He starts to pull her back out, but she stays there, firmly rooted to the stage. The audience starts to get angry, and some of them start to boo. The magician starts to panic. He knows he has to get Alice off stage fast before people start to riot. He tries to pull her again, but she doesn't budge. He starts to cry, "Help! Somebody help me!" The crowd starts to get even angrier, and they start to throw things at the magician. Alice just stays there, rooted to the floor. The magician is defeated, and he disappears off stage, leaving Alice behind.	The magician and the rabbit are on stage, and the rabbit is sick of playing second fiddle. He's been stuck in that hat for years, and he's had enough. So, he decides to take matters into his own hands. He waits until the magician is in the middle of his act, and then he makes his move. He jumps out of the hat and onto the stage, and he starts doing his own tricks. The audience goes wild, and the magician is furious. But the rabbit doesn't care. He's finally free, and he's going to show the world what he can do.	His body tenses a little just before I get wriggled out, like a pause in circulation. And then there are the usual yelps of amazement, and all at once a rush of sticky little fingers that wrap around my ears, I never quite get to lick away those crusty little squibs at the back of my neck at least not before another show. At first it was all excitement, the old loving man in his vermillion jumper. And there I was, the star of the show, the cries of soaring tiny eyes, giggles of laughter and great big bubbly smiles from grotty little rooms. It was worth the stuffiness of being packed away for 20 minutes, it was! But, it had to become stale, people pay for what they expect, the parents usually ask for ``the rabbit trick''. What else is there to it? I get pulled out and then farmed off to one of the parents. I only know what the rest of the show sounds like from another room.
4	To prevent only the dumbest people in the world from reproducing, everyone is implanted with a birth control device during puberty. It can only be deactivated once it's been determined you are intelligent and stable enough to raise a well-adjusted human being by an ``Auditor''. You're an Auditor.	When Pee Wee heard about the birth control device that was put into him during puberty, he was CBOing on how he would make the best use of the thing. He was curious about how it would work and how it would help him stay alive in a world where originality was what defined us. While he was might exploring the possibilities of how the birth control device could be used to its fullest, his mom was analyzing how to avoid looking like a fool when he finally sleepsEW. Eventually, Pee Wee found out that he was toBorn with a bomb in his back.	As an Auditor, I have to deal with the dumbest people in the world. I know they're there, floating around in the shadows, but I can't help but try to help them. It's my job, after all. Sometimes, I find myself wondering if I could be the one to implant the birth control device in someone's body. I know I'm not the smartest person in the world, but I can think of ways to make sure the world is a better place. Maybe I could be the one to make sure people can have children without worries. But before I can do that, I have to get through puberty. That's when everyone is implanted with the birth control device. I have to make sure that everyone is healthy enough to have children, and that they're able to raise them well. I have to make sure that they can do things like read and learn. But it's worth it. It's like my job is to make sure that the world is a better place, even though I can't do it on my own.	The birth control devices were a necessary evil, intended to prevent the dumbest people in the world from reproducing and wasting resources. But as with all things, there were those who found ways to get around the devices. The Auditor, a position created to oversee the implantation and removal of the devices, was given the task of determining who was intelligent and stable enough to be given the devices. Every person had to go through a rigorous process to be granted the privilege, and only the best were chosen. The process was tough, but it was worth it. The people who were chosen were intelligent and capable, and they would be able to raise well-adjusted humans. They would be able to help prevent the dumbest people from reproducing, and save the planet from becoming a wasteland.	Linda was just finishing up her rounds for the day when she got the call. There was a situation with one of the birth control devices. Apparently, it had been deactivated without the proper approval. Linda sighed. It was always the same thing. People thinking they were smarter than the system. But she knew better. She was one of the Auditors, after all. The people who decided whether or not someone was intelligent and stable enough to raise a child. She made her way to the address she'd been given and knocked on the door. A young woman answered, her eyes wide with fear. Linda could understand why. If the woman had been found to be unfit to raise a child, she would be punished severely. "I'm here to see the birth control device," Linda said. The woman led her to a back room where a small device was implanted in her arm. Linda examined it for a moment before activated it. "You're lucky," she said. "If you had been found to be unfit, you would have been sterilized. But since you're intelligent and stable enough to raise a child, you're allowed to have this device deactivated." The woman breathed a sigh of relief as Linda left. She knew she had made the right decision. After all, she was an Auditor.	``Twenty-six!'' An eager, optimistic young couple approaches my section of the long auditor desk and present their identical ``26'' tickets. They're already smiling. I'm not optimistic. ``Hi, how are you all doing?'' I ask dryly. I don't hear their response. The needle on my sensor already has dipped below the yellow cautionary section. My initial grimace deflates them completely. ``What's wrong?!'' She inquires. I shake my head no. ``I'm sorry.'' This is the part of the job where I'm trained to be empathetic, yet firm. ``It looks like collectively, you all are not qualified....'' I let that hang for a moment. ``In 120 days, you can return and try again.'' ``Try again??'' the man asks. ``What exactly can we'try' to do?'' ``Study?'' I reply. ``What do we'study'?'' he asks, again stressing a key word I had spoke. ``Oh, general knowledge. You know, we're not looking for people to know why Napoleon lost the Battle of Waterloo. Just basic stuff. How to quickly locate your car in a parking lot. Not eating moldy bread and just eating around the moldy part. An ability to effectively plan for the weather. Those sorts of things.'' Neither of them spoke. Then she spoke.
5	It's 1913, Vienna, Austria. Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for clinical trials of his latest research. He puts an ad in a newspaper. The only people who respond are : Adolf Hitler ( 24 ), Joseph Stalin ( 35 ), Leon Trotsky ( 34 ) and Josip Broz Tito ( 21 ).	Sigmund Freud is seeking participants for his latest research. However, he puts an ad in a newspaper and only the two people who respond are Hitler and Stalin. Now, what did they mean by " collaborated "?	Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin had been in love since they were young. When they were both 18, Stalin had killed his older brother, who had been aealous towards Hitler. Now that he was older, Stalin felt that he could control the young man. The three men met in Vienna, Austria. Hitler was a racist, and wanted to categorize all humans into one race. Stalin, on the other hand, wanted to make all peopleequal. They started talking about what kind of world they wanted. The next day, Hitler met with Stalin for the first time. They were both impressed by how similar he was to himself. Stalin then told Hitler that he was going to make him the dictator of the Soviet Union. Hitler was not happy, but decided to go along with it. For the next few years, Stalin put the finishing touches on the Nazi party. By 1936, they had finished construction of the Nazi concentration camp, Auschwitz. In May of that year, Stalin made history when he became the first head of the Soviet Union. Hitler was humiliated and fell out of power. In 1943, Stalin ordered his army to invade Poland. The war went badly for the Soviet Union, and in 1945, they were defeated. Hitler was captured and executed. Stalin died in prison, still a obsessed fan of Hitler.	Freud was surprised but pleased when four young men wrote to him expressing an interest in participating in his clinical trials. He arranged for them to come to Vienna to begin their trials. As it turned out, Adolf Hitler was the most successful in completing the trials. He seemed to be benefiting the most from them. Joseph Stalin continued to progress in the trials, but not as quickly. Leon Trotsky showed some promise but was not as successful as Hitler. Josip Broz Tito was the least successful in the trials. He seemed to be struggling the most. Although it was not what Freud had hoped for, he was happy that the four young men were patients of his. He continued to support each of them and helped them as best he could.	Sigmund Freud is a world-renowned psychiatrist who is always on the lookout for new participants for his clinical trials. In 1913, he placed an ad in a local newspaper in Vienna, Austria seeking new participants. The only people who responded to his ad were Adolf Hitler, Joseph Stalin, Leon Trotsky, and Josip Broz Tito. All four men met with Freud and agreed to participate in his trial. During the trial, Freud shared his latest research with the group and asked for their feedback. All four men were highly intelligent and had insightful opinions on Freud's work. The trial was a success and Freud was able to gain valuable feedback from all four participants. However, he was also able to see that there was a lot of tension between the four men. It was clear that they did not see eye to eye on many things. Freud was not sure what to make of his four participants, but he was definitely intrigued by them. He would continue to follow their careers closely, as he knew that they were all destined for great things.	Dear Diary, It was a rude shock to find, after the second day of my submitting my ad to the newspaper requesting participants for my clinical trials, so that I could begin testing my mental treatments, that I should already take notice of a very interesting stock of man ; men, ruined by their mothers ( Hitler ) and fathers ( Stalin ), which, I already suspect, may form the psychological basis of my mental research, for years to come. Already I have been told ( Hitler ) : Your work, I can already tell, is clearly no more than another attempt by the Jewish elite to gain control over the masses with your pseudo-scientific twaddle. And ( Stalin ) : You play word games and put up word walls between you and your patient, to conceal your charlatanry, because you, Freud, are a perverted fraud! Admittedly was is unclear to me why these two remained in my company for as long as they did, but I can only suspect that it was due to their desire to overpower me in conversation, which, however, they couldn't do. ( note also that two other participants, Trotsky and Broz, had both, inexplicably left, after explaining my process to them ). Nevertheless, I did listen to their every word.